Come What May
by Hiza Montmorency
Summary: The Moulin Rouge… It was a night club, a bordello, a dance hall, a land full of all the pleasures of sin. It was a kind of nightly pleasure, where rich men and women came to play with the strange, beautiful creatures of the underworld. Among them was the man I loved. His name was Samuel, and he was a courtesan. And this is the story of how he died.
1. Prologue

This is a parody. Legally. IE, I am receiving no compensation, no one is going about saying that I wrote Moulin Rouge! (which is a masterwork by itself, long live Baz Luhrman and if you don't love his work you can get the hell out of my office), and I am not going to ever be claiming to have written Moulin Rouge!. This is a work that can't come anywhere near the level of mastery that Moulin Rouge! showed us. As a work of fanfiction based entirely on the story of Moulin Rouge! several lines were entirely lifted from the script. I do not claim them as mine. The only things in here I can claim are descriptions, I'm pretty sure.

Please don't sue me.

Inspired by and dedicated to Isaisanisa.

oOo

Paris, Montmartre, 1901

High above the smoky bustle of an evening in Montmartre, a thin man sat in a small, unkempt room. The apartment showed signs that it had once been well loved, but now the walls were dingy with soot and old stains, the curtains stiff with dirt in the late summer breeze that was barely ghosting through the window. The windows were grimy and stiff, the hinges of the door beginning to rust from lack of oil, and the floorboards were covered in ugly filth.

The man had become gaunt over a year of hard drinking, his eyes tired as he stared listlessly out at the moon. She was fat in the sky, full and round, plumply hanging with her friends, the stars, all shining around her. The newly completed Eiffel Tower was majestic in the distance, tall and proud with its heavy iron legs planted firmly to the ground. Paris was beautiful, but her charm was lost to the man in the corner staring out at her.

He rose slowly, walking to the window. From there he could see the Siene covered in _l'beau clair de lune, _the beautiful moonlight, and he draped thin hands out of the window. The breeze stirred his hair- once golden and splendid, it had grown limp with his lack of care and lack of food. He ran a hand absently through it, long nails trailing over the scalp. Below, the mixed sounds of the district could be heard, and he scowled at the screams of laughter. They were interspersed with pleas and pain, and the shouted voices from the bar began to grate on him. Pushing away from the window, he was about to go and collapse in bed when he caught sight of the windmill.

Heart constricting, he went to the other window, the one he rarely opened these days, and slowly pushed the shutters back.

There it was.

The slowly rotting windmill creaked slightly as it turned just across the street from his building. He watched it with pained eyes, seeing the shattered bulbs that had once let it light up like Christmas in July. His eyes traced the ruins of the compound, the decaying Elephant, the once magnificent show house. For a moment, he thought he could hear the sounds of people laughing and singing again, and if he closed his eyes he could see it, the dazzling spectacle of light and color that had been the Moulin Rouge. The red lights soared to the air, the brilliant fireworks shot to the sky, the tent upon the elephants back brilliant red and gorgeously lit up in the moonlight. There was the scent of champagne on the air, the laughter and cheers from inside, the music, the can-can…

When his eyes opened again, only the crumbling ruins remained.

He surveyed it with new eyes, and abruptly turned to hunt through the mess of his closet. Slowly, clothing was excavated away to reveal a heavy black box. Dragging it out with shaking hands, he picked it up and set it down on the rickety table, exhaling loudly.

The locks clicked open to reveal a typewriter.

oOo

_The Moulin Rouge… It was a night club, a bordello, a dance hall, a land full of all the pleasures of sin. It was ruled by Fergus Crowley, then, late of some indistinguishable part of England and come to France to take over from an old friend. It was a kind of nightly pleasure, where rich men and women came to play with the strange, beautiful creatures of the underworld. Among them was the most beautiful man to ever be seen. It was he who I loved._

_His name was Samuel, and he was a courtesan. He sold his love to men and women, and they called him "The Sparkling Diamond". He was the star of the Moulin Rouge._

_And this is the story of how he died._


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Arrival, Agreements, and Absinthe

_I first came to Paris one year ago, and it was the time of the Summer of Love…_

At the time that Gabriel got off the sleek black train at the Gare d'Orsay, he knew nothing about Crowley, the Moulin Rouge, or Samuel Winchester. All he knew was all he needed to know, and that was that Montmartre was the center of the bohemian world, and that he wanted to be a part of it. The world was awash in love and lust, the idealism of beauty and the glory that was truth. Gabriel had been picked up and swept along as well, and as he stepped off of the train in Paris, he had never felt more alive. Bags in hand, he began the long walk to Montmartre.

He had come to Montmartre after a ferocious fight with his father, who had tossed him out screaming about how he'd waste his life in the Moulin Rouge (not that he knew what that was, just that it was in Montmartre and something that his father wouldn't approve of). He was thrilled to be leaving behind his father's bland green lands, the heavy Protestant life for the wonders of Montmartre. They called it a village of sin, and oh, how it was! Women half undressed lounged in the streets, cat calling to him as he walked into its maze of streets. Men held hands with other men, kissing lazily between the glasses of Absinthe that sat temptingly between them. The heat of the Parisian summer had skinny boys lounging nude, and writers and artists painting and writing about them. He stared around in thrilled fascination as he walked down the streets, penniless but for a bag of cash and his clothes, and the one thing he couldn't live without: his typewriter. Musicians called to him as he passed, and the prostitutes flicked their skirts out. It was wonderful, and his heart swelled. Here, he thought, were his people. The children of the revolution, as they were called. He was meant to be with them.

He found a small apartment after a few tries, and was just opening his suitcase on the thin brass bed when an unconscious man crashed through his ceiling.

There was a long pause as he started at the man currently on his floor- well. On his ceiling on his floor. The ceiling was on the floor.

This was going to make a wonderful start to his book, he could feel it already.

"Sorry about that!" a cheery voice in curiously accented English said. "Castiel has narcolepsy. Serious problem, you see, and he wouldn't've crashed through the floor but he was so _high_."

Gabriel cautiously walked over and looked up through the hole. Three faces looked down at him from the hole, and Gabriel found six eyes suddenly intently focused on him. One, the first speaker, was dusty blonde and wearing a very jaunty beret perched upon his head at a rakish angle. It seemed about ready to fly off and leave him for good. The other, Black and covered in elaborate face paint, seemed to be displeased by something, nose wrinkled. He was a big man, solid and round cheeked. The third was also Black, and was looking more and more dismayed as the seconds wore on, his full lips pursing. He seemed like a man people wouldn't want to cross.

"Balthazar, Uriel, Victor," the blonde continued, just as cheerful as before. "We're your neighbors."

On the floor, Castiel twitched, and everybody jumped, watching him a little nervously. But it seemed the twitch was only to turn over, which he did, and began snoring softly.

"I'm dreadfully sorry about this," Balthazar said, running a hand through his hair and completely displacing the beret. It flew off to parts unknown. "We're rehearsing a play, you see."

"A play?" Gabriel asked, immediately interested. He'd seen plenty of Opera, but a _play_. Now that could be new. He couldn't recall ever watching a play.

"Yes, very modern. We're calling it-" Balthazar scrambled upright, spreading his arms in a dramatic flair, "Spectacular Spectacular." There seemed to be trumpets in the air. Balthazar dropped his hands, obviously pleased. "We're setting it in Switzerland."

"Or we would be," Victor sniped, "if we had the music finished and Castiel was awake."

They all looked at the unconscious man once again. He twitched, as if to reassure them he was alive.

"We present the play to the financier tomorrow," Uriel said, his deep voice tight.

"If only we had someone to stand in for our young, sensitive, Swiss poet goat herder," Balthazar said dramatically, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. "Then, perhaps we could go on."

Gabriel blinked.

And that was how he found himself being hauled upstairs to the artist's studio, wearing lederhosen, and holding onto a ladder behind a cut out of the Swiss Alps as Balthazar warbled along wearing a nuns habit, Victor played furious piano, and Uriel was shouting over them all, telling Balthazar to get the _feeling_ right. The sets, he had to admit, were decently well painted for being made of very thin, very cheap wood, and the artist's studio was full of warm, bright colors. Understandably, this had to be to help get the creative juices flowing. He wondered if he should find some cast off material to staple to the walls. Maybe that would help.

"The hills animate," Balthazar warbled, "With the euphonious symphonies of descant-"

Uriel whirled on Victor, who had just played an exceptionally loud chord. "Oh, stop! That insufferable droning is drowning out my words! Just- decorative! Decorative piano!"

Victor looked like he was about to commit murder, and Balthazar rushed forward, holding his wimple on his head. "What about-"

They dissolved into discussion as Gabriel stood there, baffled.

"A nun wouldn't say that about hills!"

"What about 'The hills are vital intoning the descant!' Eh?"

"What is it with you and the word descant?"

"The hills quake and shake –"

"The hills are incarnate with symphonic melodies!"

"The hills-"

"The hills-"

And Gabriel could take it no more.

"The hills are alive," he sang out, closing his eyes as the music welled up through his very soul, "with the sound of music!"

Silence, then,

"The hills are alive with the sound of music," Balthazar breathed. "Perfect!" He waved for Gabriel to continue, eyes bright with excitement. Victor began picking the tune out on the piano.

"With songs they have sung, for a thousand years!" Gabriel continued, urged on by Balthazar's frantic gestures.

"Incandiferous!" Balthazar whirled on Uriel. "You two should write the show together! Just think of how good it would be!"

Uriel swelled up like an exceptionally angry balloon, eyes narrowed in disapproval. "Excuse me?"

It would seem that Balthazar's suggestion had not been what Uriel had wanted to hear. With much shouting, angry French, and a whirl of an exceptionally ugly scarf, Uriel flounced out the door with his bags in hand. There was a pause, and then Balthazar turned to beam at him, rushing over to shake his hand.

"Congratulations on your first job in Paris, Monsieur…"

"Just call me Gabriel," he said, shocked, and very nearly screamed when the dark haired man jumped up from the floor below, looking extremely baffled and marginally enraged, though in retrospect that may have just been his default expression. Victor just looked like he was going to start laughing at any minute, and went back to playing with the tune. The man, Castiel, stalked forward to grab his jaw, looking intently into his eyes. While just about _everybody_ towered over Gabriel, this man seemed exceptionally tall, something about the way he held himself making him loom over like a slightly angry eagle.

"You," he said, his voice like gravel being run over by wagon wheels, "have a great talent."

And that was the moment when Gabriel realized the man had a hand on his dick. He manfully resisted the urge to scream, mostly because Castiel didn't seem to realize it was there. He released him a moment later, and Balthazar bounded up, grinning.

"You know what this means, Gabriel?"

"No?" he said, a little scared.

"We must toast you! You have a great success planned!" Balthazar looked beyond him. "Cassie, bring the glasses and drinks! We have to celebrate!"

"Crowley will never agree," Victor said doubtfully as Castiel came back with glasses and a green bottle. "Have you ever written a play before?"

Gabriel was sat down firmly in a chair. "Well, no," he said, as the glasses were slammed in front of him. "But… how hard could it be?"

Balthazar clapped him on the shoulder, beaming. "That's the spirit, Gabe! Now, a toast! Victor, get your pretty ass over here! Together, we are about to create the world's most wonderful Bohemian masterpiece!"

Victor walked over, sitting on one of the rickety chairs with a thump. "How, again, are we going to convince Crowley?"

Balthazar had a plan, and hurriedly sat down, leaning in with a wild grin. "You're going to love it."

The plan was admittedly quite brilliant, and Gabriel found himself wondering suspiciously if Balthazar had once been involved with spy work. The plan was, quite simply, Samuel. Well, there was a bit more to it than that, but it did hinge on the gorgeous courtesan's cooperation, whether knowingly or not. Samuel was a well known lover of the arts, and the person they were expecting to have in the main role for their play. They would dress Gabriel up as a fabulously wealthy, well connected, and famous English writer. Once Samuel heard the poetry, which he was renowned for loving, he would immediately insist that Gabriel write "Spectacular Spectacular" and go about getting funding. It was a perfect plan, except for one thing. Gabriel kept hearing his father in his head, roaring "You'll waste your life with the whores of the Moulin Rouge!"

He sat back as the group stared expectantly at him. "I don't think I can write the show."

"What?" Victor said, surprised. "Why not?"

Balthazar leaned in, apparently intent on hearing his answer, and even Castiel looked concerned.

"Well," he hesitated. "I don't know if I even _am _a Bohemian revolutionary."

"Is that all?" Castiel said with a laugh, leaning back.

Balthazar shook his head, smiling. "Tell me, Gabriel. Do you believe in beauty?"

Gabriel nodded, confused. "Of course."

"And how about freedom? Do you believe in freedom?" Victor asked, his eyes more gentle than he'd seen before.

"Yes, of course," Gabriel nodded, serious.

"How about truth?" Balthazar shot back. "What about that one?"

"Truth is pure, I believe in it," Gabriel said, nodding.

"And what of love?" Castiel asked, quiet and serious.

Gabriel looked about at the group, who were all waiting for his answer. "More than anything," he said quietly, "I believe in love. Love? Love? Love is like oxygen, love is- is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!"

Victor laughed, raising the bottle to pour. "Oh, Gabriel. You can't fool us, little man! You're the voice of the Children of the Revolution!"

They had a plan, practically foolproof. Gabriel would meet Samuel, but for now…

Absinthe.

oOo

There was a tiny woman in green dancing around the artist's apartment, and he couldn't stop laughing. Hell, he didn't want to. Castiel and Balthazar were dancing and singing, Victor was pounding out music, and he found himself dancing to the music, laughing when Castiel grabbed him. They kept spinning and whirling around, the green woman singing shrilly as they tossed out lines to each other.

"Tomorrow!" Balthazar shrieked, launching himself at Gabriel and grabbing him to spin him around. "Tomorrow! We go and we become _stars_!"

"Famous, famous stars!" Castiel yelled back, giggling a little as he flopped onto one of the beds set up in the corner. Balthazar began singing, and Gabriel joined in, the off-key warbling drifting out to the Montmartre streets below, where guitars picked up the melody. The world was wonderful and loud and perfect, and he floated as they danced.

_And the lights and colors were so wonderful, like nothing I'd ever experienced before. Everything was wild and free, and for the first time I felt truly alive, truly part of this amazing Bohemian revolution! As we danced and sang, the green fairy following along and singing about the sound of music with us, as we launched ourselves higher and higher with the absinthe. It is like nothing you can ever imagine, and it is wonderful._

_And then the next day came, and I put on the suit that they brought me, staring out of my window at the lit up elephant and whirling windmill of the Moulin Rouge._

_Before me, though I did not know it yet, was my destiny._


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Passion, Possession, and Pretty Boys

Walking through the gate of the Moulin Rouge was like stepping into another world. The artists had obviously been there plenty, as people called out to them and a few of the prostitutes came up to grab Balthazar and chatter excitedly with him. Men in beautiful suits and sleep top hats bobbed to and fro in the current of women and scantily clad men, like overdressed penguins in a sea of flashy peacocks and beautiful birds of paradise. All the colors of the world were in the courtyard, and it was rich in lights, sounds, people, and above all things, alcohol. Food was ferried about on trays, and glasses were balanced there as well. Gabriel carefully grabbed one, and grinned when champagne burst across his tongue.

The doors to the main hall opened up, and shrieks of excitement filled the air. Gabriel was whirled around by Balthazar and dragged towards the door, past the huge elephant and the tall Gothic tower. The red building glowed with lights, and as people poured into the hall, he looked around in amazement. The place was much bigger than expected, with a huge ceiling, and two levels. The main floor was covered by a shining dance floor, and as the people flooded in, from the far end, where long red and gold curtains were hung, a man emerged too raucous cheering. He was dressed all in black, glittering and glistening in satin's and silks. He wore a sleek top hat, which he spun around and around before tossing it in the air and catching it on the crop he carried with deft grace. He had to be Crowley, the proprietor and host, and Gabriel watched him with fascination.

"Ladies! Gentlemen!" Crowley swept his arm wide to indicate the curtains, stepping aside. "The Moulin Rouge!"

The red curtains dramatically swept back, and Gabriel's jaw hit the floor as music began to play, the band picking up a rich, erotic tune as women and men poured out of the gap behind the curtains. They were dressed wildly, in bright yellows, blues, pinks, greens, and reds. One man wore a bright white vest and pants, the vest dramatically embroidered with silver thread. Balthazar lugged them off to the side as people swarmed, dark suited boys and positively elderly men grabbing the women's waists and dragging them into a wild dance. It seemed to be some sort of version of the waltz, heavily bastardized, and Gabriel looked on in shock and awe as Castiel was grabbed by a curly haired woman and pulled to the middle of the floor. The man in white came up to them as well, and the three began to dance together, bodies writhing tightly together. Castiel's head tipped back as he laughed, the two attacking his neck with bites and kisses, one from each side. The man in white was pressed tightly up against his back as the girl leaned in closer.

The floor was covered in dancers, all of them as wild and carefree as birds left, right, and center. Victor came to the table they'd managed to slide into with glasses of prepared Absinthe, and they all watched as Castiel danced with the two for a moment before spinning away to avoid Crowley, who was singing the opening number to introduce the newcomers to the Moulin Rouge. Gabriel tried to listen but gave up when Castiel all but crashed into them, squeezing in at the back of the table.

"Well, we successfully avoided Crowley!" Balthazar said enthusiastically.

"_And_ I've arranged a meeting for you and Sam," Castiel said, leaning in to fix Gabriel with a stare. "Totally alone."

"What?" Gabriel said, shocked. "Alone?"

The music suddenly stopped, and the four turned to look out at the dance floor.

"It's him," Balthazar breathed. "Our sparkling diamond."

From the top of the Moulin Rouge descended a swing, one which was sat the most beautiful man Gabriel had ever seen. He was incredibly tall, with long legs that ended in graceful heels of deep black. His hair was long, pulled up into carefully pinned waves, and his face was painted up with as much makeup as any of the women. With bright red lips, pale skin, and his body squeezed into a silver, glittering corset with slick pants to his knees that were covered in sequins and other shining things, a long fringe of beads draping down to match the long tail in the back. The corset looked like a mock suit coat, and as glitter rained down on those standing on the floor, the man opened his mouth and began to sing.

"The French are glad to die for love."

His voice rang through the silent hall, echoing perfectly off of the walls.

"They delight in fighting duels."

The swing descended a little further down, and Gabriel's breath caught in his throat. Samuel was, without a doubt, the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. Long eyelashes opened, revealing gorgeous eyes, and a sigh of longing went out through the whole room.

"But I prefer a man who lives, and gives expensive…" The room held its breath.

"Jewels."

The band immediately picked up, and the swing began to rotate down, Sam's heeled feet almost brushing the top hats of the crowd. A roar of approval went up, and Gabriel sat back, swallowing hard. The man was so far away from his league it wasn't even funny.

"A kiss on the hand may be, quite continental, but diamonds are a girl's best friend," Sam sang as he was helped off the swing and began moving through the crowd. He was nearly a head taller than everyone in the room, and the sheer charisma that poured off of him was incredibly distracting. People swarmed to him as the song continued, and as he and Crowley swirled through the crowd before he was handed off to a hungry looking man in a chic hat. They danced a bit before he went off to another.

Crowley slid off the stage, and the four of them hunkered down to avoid being seen as he slid into the booth next to them, apparently talking to the man whose back was to them.

oOo

"When do I meet him?"

"Tonight," Crowley promised. "In the elephant. Totally alone, I promise you."

The man in the perfectly fitted black suit was watching Sam with the kind of eyes that suggested he would be trouble, but Crowley pushed the thought away. The man was nothing but polite and gentle, he didn't seem likely to go flying off the rails any time soon. That was the thing of the gentry- they were normal, up until they weren't. But this one, this- oh, hell what was his name? Lucifer. Right. Duke Lucifer. He didn't seem too crazy, at least.

"And I have your word on that?" Lucifer asked, his voice betraying his hunger.

"Totally. Alone."

Lucifer smiled, and was about to ask him something else when the music changed pace.

"Gotta run," Crowley said cheerily, and dove back into the crowd, dancing up to Sam, where they whirled up to the top of a tower covered in legs, skirts, and cheering people.

"There may come a time when a lass needs a lawyer," Sam sang, faking a pout as Crowley dangled a golden heart near him, teasingly grabbing for it. "Diamonds are a girl's best friend! There may come a time when some, hard-boiled employer thinks you're awful nice-" and he faked a yelp as Crowley mimed groping him. "But get that ice or else no dice!"

The other girls started on the chorus as the two danced around.

"Where is he?" Sam asked eagerly, and Crowley began looking to reorient himself.

In the meantime, as Sam and Crowley had been dancing, the artists had been desperately trying to convince Gabriel not to leave. He was anxious and flighty, not thrilled about being alone with a woman- after all, it was quite inappropriate- and Balthazar hopped up with his absinthe to get him another calming drink. At the same time, the Duke had stood up, and Balthazar crashed into him, the absinthe spilling down him. Whipping out his handkerchief, he began trying to sop up the mess.

"He's the one who Balthazar's waving a hankie at," Crowley said when he caught sight of him.

They spun, but at the same time, Balthazar had reached over to grab the pocket square from Gabriel's pocket, shaking it out. Sam squinted, and their eyes connected. The man looked terrified, though it faded a little as their eyes met.

"Are you sure?" Sam said, skeptical as he spun back around.

Crowley checked again, as Balthazar turned once more.

"Yes, that's him," he said, and they dropped down, people standing up to give them a changing space. People hurried up with different clothes, quickly stripping Sam out of the first costume and offering him another in pale pink. He made a face but began climbing into it.

"We've snagged a good one this time," Crowley panted. "That rich Duke will be head over heels to invest after a night with you."

"So it's a sure thing?" Sam gasped as someone began doing up the corset.

"How could he refuse?" Crowley drawled.

"Well, what's his type?" Sam asked, brushing away someone who was trying to mess with his hair. "Leave it _alone,_ Jess. Wilting flower? Bright and bubbly? Smoldering tempter?"

"Smoldering tempter, I would think," Crowley said, fixing his own hair. "We're all relying on you, pet. Remember, a real show, in a real theater, with a _real_ audience, and you'll be…"

Sam sighed, a slightly dreamy expression crossing his face. "A real actor." He smiled for a moment, and then the show smile went back on, bright as the lights inside the dance hall. They popped up, the fluffy pink tails of the pink corset and breeches swinging dramatically as the audience broke into ferocious cheers.

"And that's when those louses go back to their spouses!" Sam sang, stepping down the stage to be lifted up and carried off. "Diamonds! Diamonds! Diamonds…are a girl's…"

The artists all gasped, realizing that he was coming towards then. Gabriel's eyes were all but bulging out of his head as he watched, a sudden deep terror crawling into his bones and setting up camp. Surely Sam wasn't coming over to them-

"Friend."

There he was.

6 feet and four inches of elegance in sparkling silver heels and long pink tails, his face made up beautifully, and glittering in the light of the hall, Samuel was a gleaming, gorgeous mass of man.

"I believe you were expecting me," he said, his voice rich and deep. Gabriel was utterly tongue tied, stunned.

"Uh- um, yes, yes I was," he stammered out, making no move. Sam's face fell as he didn't stand, and he slumped, looking back.

"Awwww," everyone went. Gabriel had no idea what was going on, looking around desperately for some kind of explanation for why everyone was staring at him now. Sam began swaying back and forth, shaking the pink tails in Gabriel's face. He leaned back, still confused and more than a little scandalized.

"I'm afraid it's dancer's choice," he called, looking out over the crowd. Spinning around, he grabbed Gabriel's hand. "Let's dance." His voice was a throaty, heady purr, and Gabriel swallowed hard before he was being abruptly pushed up and out onto the dance floor with plenty of others. Old men danced with young girls, boys danced with other boys, two girls writhed around an ancient and withered old man who looked like he was about to go into heart failure from how happy he looked.

"How wonderful of you to take an interest in our little show," Sam purred as they danced, Gabriel barely keeping up with the wildly quick music and steps. Sam was an excellent dancer, with quick feet even in the heels. Gabriel felt dwarfed by him.

"It sounds quite intriguing, I'm thrilled to be involved," Gabriel managed, barely able to swirl him and keep up. "Assuming you like what I do, of course!"

Sam's eyebrows rose for a moment. "I'm sure I will," he said, arms draping over Gabriel's shoulders.

"Balthazar thought that we might-" Gabriel was whirled around and then whirled around Sam. "Do it in private."

Sam's eyebrows definitely rose now. "Did he now?"

"Yes, you know," Gabriel panted, feet desperately trying to keep up. "A private poetry reading."

"Ohhhh, a poetry reading," Sam said, eyes glittering. "I see. I love a little _poetry_ before supper."

Around them the Moulin Rouge was awash in color and light, laughter ringing to the rooftops as they danced together, whirling skirts and flying feet covering the whole affair. The music was clearly reaching the climax, and Gabriel felt himself being shoved back as Sam grinned.

"Hold onto your hat!"

Gabriel's eyes widened, and in unison the dancers kicked their legs up, and all the top hats went flying up into the sky.

oOo

"Diamonds!"

The crowd was swaying and swaying, hands together as they raised them, watching Sam ascend back to the ceiling, and he was singing again.

"Diamonds!"

The crowd was a roaring masterpiece of black silk suits and colorful girls in dresses.

"Square cut or pear shaped, these rocks don't lose their shape…"

A roll from the trombones.

"Diamonds…are a girl's… best…!"

And suddenly, his voice was gone. The air was gone, pain searing his lungs and throat as the air closed off. The sound faded away, even though he knew it was there. He stared up at the ceiling, able to see the frightened eyes of those working the winch to pull him back up. And then…

Darkness.

oOo

Sam fell in a glittering pink light, and it was only by sheer dumb luck that the man in the white costume rushed forward and managed to catch him. His thin body was draped over the arms, scarily still, and the man hurried off the stage as everyone gasped and began to murmur amongst themselves. In the second row, Gabriel felt his heart clench. The poor boy looked dangerously pale. There was an awkward pause over the room, everyone looking to each other as they tried to figure out what to do.

"You frightened him away!" Crowley called, and a chorus of disapproval ran through the room. "But I see some lonely Moulin Rouge dancers out there, looking for a partner or two! So, if you can hunk hunk, you can hunkadola with them!"

The music picked back up, and Gabriel found himself being spirited away as the festivities started up like they hadn't ever stopped.

oOo

"Make way, make way!" Bobby was bustling his way through the back of the stage, off to where Sam had been laid out on a couch. "Didn't any of you get him out of this thing?"

Sam smiled weakly at Bobby. "Sorry," he said, with a bit of a cough. "These stupid costumes, you know?"

Crowley loomed up as Bobby placed a wet rag on Sam's head. "Are you alright, moose?"

"It was just a fainting spell," Sam promised, not moving to take the rag away, closing his eyes in relief. "I'll be fine by tonight, I'm sure."

"Good." And he vanished once more, back out to work the crowds.

Some of the girls were gathered round. One, Meg, laughed a little. "Doesn't look like the Duke's gonna be getting his money's worth tonight, does it?"

"Don't be so mean, Meg," one of the other girls, smacking her shoulder before Rufus appeared, shooing them off to get changed. Bobby shook his head when the other man leaned over, and he stepped back, letting Sam have more space.

It was then that the coughing started. Sam scrambled his hand around until he could find a handkerchief. He held it to his mouth to cover the cough, coughing hard into it. When he was done, Bobby was shocked to see how quickly he fell into sleep, his face finally betraying his exhaustion. Shaking his head, he picked up the handkerchief, and a roll of terror washed over him when he saw the red blood on it. Things, it seemed, were not all that they appeared to be.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Seduction, Sweetness, and The Snake

There really wasn't any reason that Sam needed someone to help him get dressed, but he appreciated it all the same. The black corset went on, stockings and garter belt went under tight black pants, and over it all went the piece he was most proud of in his collection. Deep red, the dress-like overcoat was a masterpiece of heavy, pure red satin that fit tight on the torso, sleeveless and v-necked, before billowing out at the hips, a long train at the back making it sweep across the floor. The effect was glorious.

Jody was fussing over him, fixing the makeup and hair. "With the way that Duke was dancing with you, you've got him hooked for sure. Patron like that, you'll command more stages than Sarah Bernhardt."

"Oh, come on," Sam said, looking over at the picture he'd taped to one of the mirrors. "There's no way."

"Why not?" Jody asked, pulling him down and making him slide off the majestic coat so she could check the corset once again. "You've got the talent, and you're getting a reputation as a performer of some renown, you know. Hook that Duke and you'll be all across Europe, headlining the great shows."

Sam laughed breathily as she helped him pull the coat back on and fasten it. "Hear that?" he asked the little bird that one of his favorites had given him. It cheeped loudly, hopping over to stare at him. "We're going to fly away from here. Fly, fly away!"

Crowley came rushing down the stairs, his expression deeply worried. It smoothed when he saw Sam already dressed. "Oh, and look at you."

Sam beamed, spinning around. "Do you think he'll like it?"

"Oh, definitely," Crowley told him approvingly, walking over to look him up and down. "Everything's going so well!"

oOo

"Up to the elephant already!" Balthazar had exclaimed when they brought him to the door in the leg. "Oh, this is good. Go, go!"

And go he had, up the winding stair into the Elephant and into Sam's room. He'd opened the door with a flourish, now dressed all in red and black, and Gabriel had very nearly choked. Sam was gorgeous, to say the least, and as he was let inside he couldn't help but wonder why the man was so dressed up for just him. The red dress (or was it a coat?) was gorgeous and somehow provocative, tight to his body and clinging in all the right places.

"Pardon me," Sam purred as he looked around the lavish interior. "I'm just going to slip into something a touch more comfortable."

Gabriel walked through the elephant, marveling at the artistry that had gone into it, and ended up staring out at Paris, where the Eiffel tower was stabbing up into the sky, dramatic and beautiful. There was a rustle of satins behind him, and he couldn't help but turn.

"Wonderful place for a poetry reading, isn't it?" Sam purred coyly, letting the dramatic lace and sheer dressing gown float down behind him as he posed. Gabriel swallowed hard, unable to catch his breath. The corset was tight, dragging in his waist to feminine curves and pressing up his chest into false breasts. It was unnerving and more than a little attractive. "Poetic enough for you?"

"Um, yes, yes, definitely, you're… very beautiful," he said in a rush, not quite certain where to look. Sam preened at the words, smiling as he turned to the table where small snacks had been laid out.

"Some wine, perhaps?" he asked, lifting a bottle out of the bucket. "A little supper?"

"Um, no thanks," Gabriel said, tearing his eyes away from the glorious swell of Sam's backside. "I- I'd rather just get this over with, if you don't mind?"

Sam stiffened a little, dropping the bottle back into the bucket with a heavy _clunk_, but turned around with a smile on. "Well then." He crossed the room and sat down on the bed, leaning back against the ornate pillows. His hair fanned out beautifully against them as he smiled, all seductive grace. "Why don't you just come down here, and we'll…get it over and done with."

Gabriel licked his lips, still not sure where to look. "I- I prefer to do it standing."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "You don't have to stand."

Gabriel swallowed hard, eyes cutting to the floor. He was alone with a dangerously handsome man, and he had no idea what to do. "It's just that, it's quite long and I'd like you to be comfortable."

Sam's eyes widened a little.

Gabriel hurried to reassure him. "It's quite modern, why I do, you see, and it might feel a little strange at first. But- but I think if you're open, you might really enjoy it, you know."

"I'm sure I will," Sam said, his voice sounding a little strangled as he looked at him, almost warily.

Gabriel coughed, swallowing hard as he muttered, "Excuse me." He turned, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. _Okay, Gabriel, you're in a room with a beautiful man who may or may not be doing things to your nether regions. Calm down, this is… this is business. Yes, business. That's right._

"The sky," he started, turning, only to be frozen by Sam's inquisitive stare. The man had eyes that could bore right through you. It was terrifying. "The sky- the bluebirds…" he swallowed hard, unable to get more out. He turned around again in slight panic, muttering, "Come on, come on."

"Is everything alright?" Sam asked, peering at him.

Gabriel spun around, hoping desperately that he wasn't sweating too badly. "It's, it's fine, I'm just a little nervous. Sometimes it takes a while for inspiration to come."

Sam's eyes lit with understanding. _"Oh_." He rose in a smooth, slick display of lean muscle, and Gabriel had to bite back a whimper of want. There was something about him, something incredibly distracting, and Gabriel's breath caught in his throat as he was pulled in tight, body pressed up against the lean length of him. "Does that… _inspire_ you?"

"I-"

"Let's make love," Sam purred, all but throwing him onto the bed. Gabriel scrambled back, shocked as Sam slipped down as well, crawling sensuously up towards him. "You want to, don't you?"

He gasped as Sam pounced, straddling him with impressively muscled legs. He had a faint moment of disconnect as he thought about how much work must have gone in to get them that muscled, before Sam was leaning down to purr, "Tell the truth! Can't you just _feel_ the poetry of it all?" The man was grinding down on him, and Gabriel's thoughts went completely out the window as he gasped, shocked by the forwardness. "Free yourself, let the inspiration flow!"

/\/\

Outside, watching from a distance, Balthazar grinned. "Well, something's going to be flowing alright."

/\/\

"I need it, I need your poetry!" Sam was saying, and finally Gabriel scrambled out from under him, chest heaving as he tried to compose himself.

"It's- It's a little bit funny," he said, voice strained as Sam rolled over to watch him, eyes intent and dark with lust. At least, he was pretty certain it was lust. Maybe it was just the lighting. "This, this feeling inside." He cast around, desperately trying to figure out something to say next. "I'm not one of those who can easily hide."

Sam was looking at him with such surprise he stopped, a little worried. "Is- I'm new to this, is this okay? Is this what you want?"

"Oh," Sam breathed, "_poetry. _Yes, yes, this is exactly what I want. Filthy words, that's it!"

Gabriel blushed brightly, shocked, but determined to continue. "I don't have much money, but- but if I did, I'd buy a big house, where we both could live."

Sam was rolling around and moaning, chest heaving dramatically as he called out words of filthy encouragement. Gabriel was barely able to keep going.

"I-if I were a sculptor, then again, no," he tried as Sam let out a positively _wrecking _moan. "Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show."

"Don't stop!" Sam all but screamed, hands fisting the bed as his back came up in a perfect arch, elegant and graceful even in the corset. "Oh, don't stop!"

"I know it's not much," Gabriel said, feeling a little terrified as he watched the man. "But it's the best I can do!"

"Naughty! Don't stop, oh, _yes_!"

And then suddenly, the words that he should have been saying the whole time came pouring out of his mouth, and then, he was singing.

"My gift is my song! And this one's for you," he sang, the words bursting out. Sam slowly straightened up, startled from his attempts. "And you can tell everybody, that this is your song. It may be quite simple but, now that it's done…" he reached down and took Sam's hand. The man stood, looking more than a little awed. "I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words…" Sam looked like he was having a religious experience, eyes wide and happy. He gently kissed the hand he was holding, getting a smile. "How _wonderful_ life is, now you're in the world."

Sam blushed a little, his expression bright with happiness.

Gabriel jumped back, grinning as he hopped onto a chair and spun. "I sat on the roof, and I kicked off the moss. Well, some of these verses, they got me quite cross. But the sun's been kind, since I wrote this song. It's for people like you," he jumped off and grabbed Sam's hand, spinning him around to make him laugh. "That keep it turned on!"

He pulled him into waltz position and they began dancing as Sam beamed, lighting up with real happiness. They spun and twisted around the room, and Sam laughed brightly as Gabriel twirled him, Sam bending down and Gabriel going up on his tiptoes. "So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do! You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue!" He leaned up to look into Sam's eyes, making him laugh and lean to touch their noses together. "Anyway the thing is, what I really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes, I've ever seen!"

The world seemed to melt away, and the two of them were still dancing, Sam's dressing gown floating around them and sparkling with tiny gems that glittered in the light.

"And you can tell everybody that this is your song!" Gabriel sang, keeping him close. "It may be quite simple but now that it's done…" They slowed a little, swaying. "I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words…" Sam leaned their forehead's together, and Gabriel smiled, heart swelling. "How wonderful life is, now you're in the world."

Together they flopped down on the love seat, Sam's long legs draping over Gabriel's as they twined together, his arms around Gabriel's neck as the man leaned over him. He was smiling hugely, eyes bright with pure happiness, and Gabriel could feel himself fall in love right there and then.

"I can't believe it," Sam whispered, smiling. "I'm in love. I'm in love with a young, handsome Duke."

"Duke?" Gabriel asked, delirious on love.

"Not that the title's important, of course," Sam breathed, eyeing his lips.

"But, I'm not a Duke."

The world screeched to a halt, and Sam sat up very quickly, eyes widening.

"Not a Duke?"

"No," Gabriel said, falling back startled. "I'm a writer."

"A _writer?!"_

"Yes, a writer! Balthazar-" Gabriel tried, feeling the moment slipping away and desperately trying to catch it.

Sam stood up abruptly, heels clicking sharply on the floor. "You're not one of Balthazar's talented, Bohemian, tragically impoverished protégé's?!"

"Well," Gabriel said helplessly, "You could put it like that."

"I'm going to kill that man."

/

From across the way, Balthazar sneezed. Castiel looked up from the telescope he'd been watching through.

"There may be a slight hitch."

/

Sam ran his hands through his hair, looking desperate and scared. "What about the Duke…"

"The Duke?" Gabriel asked, baffled.

"My dear Duke," Crowley's voice said as the door began to open. Sam rushed over, pushing it closed quickly.

"The Duke!" He looked around frantically as Gabriel stood there, dumbfounded. "What are you doing? Hide!" Gabriel jerked into action, looking around frantically. Sam waved a hand at him, motioning him towards the back of the elephant. "In the back!"

Gabriel looked like he was about to run, but Crowley pushed open the door. "Are you decent for our Duke, Sam?"

Sam wiped the panicked expression off his face and plastered on a smile as Gabriel dropped to the floor beside the food. Crowley stepped through the door, frowning a little at him. "Where the hell were you?" he muttered as Sam sent him a slightly panicked look that was wiped away just as quickly as Crowley swept his hand up. "Sam, this is the Duke. Lucifer."

_Dear god, what a name to be saddled with_, Sam thought in slight horror as he smiled and bowed a little. "Your Grace."

"And this," Crowley said with a charming smile, "is Monsieur Samuel. More commonly called Sam."

The Duke took his hand, kissing the back. There was something about him that immediately had Sam wanting to crawl in a bath and scrub for four or five years, and maybe get a priest to bless him against demonic influence. But this was his job, and everyone knew how much they needed the money, so there was no point in doing otherwise. He managed to keep his smile on and said in his most seductive voice, "How nice of you to take time out to visit our little production."

"Oh, the pleasure was entirely mine," the Duke said, his voice slick and sweet like poisoned honey. Sam's skin crawled as he let his hand drop.

Crowley shot him a pointed look and smiled, all polite businessman. "I'll leave you two to get reacquainted." And with that he was gone, escaping out the door and leaving them be. Alone.

With Gabriel hiding behind the table.

Oh, this was going to go swimmingly.

"I imagine," Lucifer said as he looked around the room with a sort of bland curiosity, "that after tonight's exertions on the stage you must be in need of some refreshing." He went for the bucket holding the champagne and Sam promptly panicked.

"Don't! Youuuujustlove the view?" He said desperately, getting Lucifer to turn and look at the magnificently framed Eiffel tower out of the heart in the elephant's forehead. Lucifer gave him a bit of an odd look, but nodded dutifully.

"It's charming."

He turned back to the table and Sam let out a desperate cooing noise, grabbing his dressing gown and spinning, writhing oddly. Lucifer turned and stared, obviously baffled.

"I feel like dancing," Sam gasped out by way of explanation, his smile obviously strained. Gabriel peeked over the table, just as confused as the Duke, and Sam made a slight jerking motion, urging him to leave. He jolted, sliding over to the door and pulling it open, only to hurriedly shut it when he saw the bodyguard outside. Lucifer had apparently lost his patience with Sam's strange display, and as Gabriel hurriedly ducked under the table he said, "I would quite like a glass of champagne-"

And that was when Sam threw himself at Lucifer's feet. The man looked down with an inquisitive and suddenly suspiciously pleased expression, and as Sam's skin crawled he said, "It's… a little bit funny."

Lucifer leaned back against the table, looking at him with a pleased but expectant expression.

"This-this feeling inside," Sam stumbled out, sliding his hands up Lucifer's pant legs. "I'm not one of those that can…" He ducked his head, looking desperately through Lucifer's legs at Gabriel, who mouthed 'hide' at him, just as scared. "E-easily hide!" Sam finished, looking up at the Duke. Lucifer reached down to lift a lock of Sam's hair, watching him with hungry eyes. Sam slid up, mouthing open kisses against the Duke's inner thigh as he went, his stomach clenched tight in fear. His heart was hammering in his chest, as he gripped the Duke's hips and mouthed over the bulge in his dress pants. He'd done such a thing a million times before, but this time, it was like being presented with the devil himself and told to sing for his life. His nerve very nearly failed him, but he continued, looking up with sweet, innocent intent. "I-I don't have much money, but if I did…"he scrambled for the rest of the poem, and managed to get out, "I'd buy a big house where we both could live."

And there it was. Lucifer softened a little, and Sam slowly rose, easily toeing off the heels so they were closer in height. Draping his arms around the man's neck, he looked into his eyes and sang, hesitantly, "I hope you don't mind… I hope you don't mind…that I put down in words…"

Gabriel rose, face stricken as he watched Sam sing.

"How wonderful life is…now you're in the world."

Lucifer's eyes widened a little, and he took a deep breath, looking Sam over. He seemed less greasy now, more human, and Sam felt a rush of relief. "That. That was very beautiful," he said, and Sam finally managed a real smile.

Perfect. Got him.

"It's from _Spectacular Spectacular," _Sam said, all sweetness as he pressed up against him. "And you know, with you here, I suddenly understand the meaning of those words. How wonderful life really is, with you in the world."

"And what meaning is that, pet?" Lucifer asked, a hand going up to stroke through Sam's hair. He tore himself away, partially to continue his charade but mostly to get away from the hand.

"Duke! Don't toy with my emotions!" He draped himself on the bed with all the drama of a Shakespearean actor, refusing to look at the man. "You must know the effect you have on people."

Lucifer looked a little shocked, looking around as though there would be someone else that Sam was speaking too. Gabriel hunkered further down, unnerved. Sam spread himself out more, exposing the long line of his throat.

And, sure enough, Lucifer was a true gentleman.

"_The real gentlemen, the ones with good breeding, they're like jungle cats_," Meg had told him when he was starting out. _"You know you have a man of good breeding when you expose the throat. They'll always go right for the neck, the gentlemen. It means they had ancestors who were killers, and you know what happens with killers."_

"_No,"_ he'd said, confused. "_What happens with killers?"_

"_Well," _she'd said with a wicked grin, painting his lips blood red. _"They became nobles._"

Lucifer was on him in a heartbeat, teeth closing in on his neck, hot and vicious. The man moved like a viper, wickedly fast and dangerous. _Definitely noble_, Sam thought faintly before tilting his head to offer him more room. "Let's make love," he gasped, knowing that sex would certainly distract the man long enough to get Gabriel out of the room. Gabriel stood up, looking disgusted, and Sam indignantly wrapped his legs around Lucifer's hips, dragging him closer. "You want to make love, don't you?"

Gabriel shook his head in disapproval and snuck off to the side, away from sight. Sam very nearly let out a sigh of relief, but Lucifer murmured against his skin, "I'll take you apart."

Gabriel popped back out, glaring at Sam as if to say "This is what you've sunk to?"

Sam glared back, in between his moans, but Gabriel wouldn't stop staring, judging from afar. It was really starting to get annoying, so finally Sam rolled his eyes and announced loudly. "Oh, I quite agree Duke. We _should_ wait until opening night."

Gabriel immediately beamed and popped out of sight.

Lucifer sat up, clearly confounded. "What?"

Sam rose, forcing Lucifer to stand as well, and adjusted his hair. Nodding seriously he said, "There's a power in you that scares me, dear Duke." _And that is not a lie,_ he thought fervently. Lucifer was strange and intense and no small amount terrifying. "You should go."

"But I just got here!"

"We'll see each other every day during rehearsal," Sam said blithely, shepherding him to the door. "We _must_ wait for opening night, just think, something to look forward to. Get out."

And the door was shut firmly behind him.

Sam collapsed against it as Gabriel emerged from his new hiding spot, looking incredibly pleased with himself. "Do. You. Have. ANY idea of what could have happened if you were found?" Sam gasped, walking over to him. He was swaying a little, the adrenaline from the fear slipping away and leaving him very lightheaded. The corset wasn't helping either. "They would have…"

And everything went black.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Chorus, Cages, and Conviction

Gabriel suddenly had a huge armful of unconscious man, and really this hadn't been in his job description or his plans for the evening (which, he had to admit, was getting weirder and weirder with each passing minute). Confused and a little scared, he shook the man. Sam's head flopped a little to the side, which made his hair drape rather fetchingly, but did nothing in the way of waking him up that he could tell.

"Sam?"

No response.

"Shit," he hissed, looking around desperately. There wasn't a handily labeled "What To Do When A Person Faints On You" book lying around in a convenient place, which, really, made him feel slightly cheated. The heroes and heroines in books always had that sort of luck and, well, he was a writer! Shouldn't that luck default to him!? This was entirely unfair.

/

As Gabriel was lugging an unconscious Sam towards the bed, in the North Tower, Crowley had just settled in for a nice night of voyeurism and cognac. He adjusted his telescope and smiled smugly to himself as he saw the two.

"Oh, I'm good," he purred to himself.

/

Watching from their own telescope, Balthazar, Victor, and Castiel were all jostling for position and squabbling over who got to watch first.

"Lucky bastard," Castiel muttered, looking enviously over at the elephant.

The other two echoed his words in jealous agreement, and Victor smacked Balthazar out of the way to gain control of the eyepiece.

/

Gabriel really wasn't feeling very lucky as he dragged Sam onto the bed. The man was heavy, and it was very difficult to keep his eyes in the appropriate locations when the fact of the matter was that, well. Sam was _huge_. And it was highly likely that he was proportionately made. He was relatively certain that enormous could be used as an adjective in this situation, actually. Or humongous. Massive? Immense, maybe. Or gigantic. Gigandick?

"Oh god," he muttered helplessly, eyes traveling down the sleek corset even as he pushed the man higher up on the bed.

Yep.

Gigandick.

/

"Going at it already," Crowley muttered between sips. "God, this is a match made in fucking _heaven_."

/

"What're you _seeing_?" Balthazar demanded, craning his neck.

"They're, like… grinding and frotting together, I suppose," Victor said, squinting through the eye of the telescope at the two. It was really quite boring; he'd pegged Gabriel as the extremely creative type. "I never saw him take off any clothes, so..."

"Oh god dammit I am so jealous," the blonde growled. Castiel was sulking in the corner and not talking to either of them.

/

Fortunately, just as Gabriel was about to resort to slapping, Sam came around, blinking a little groggily as he took in Gabriel's anxious expression.

Unfortunately, Lucifer reopened the door saying, "I left my gloves-" to see a man bent over, Sam looking highly discombobulated, and generally a little bedraggled. There was a moment of awkward pause before Lucifer said, very stiffly and in the tones of someone more than willing to bring the poisoned daggers to the party, "Foul play?"

Sam sat up as Gabriel stumbled back, suddenly feeling the full and terrifying wrath of the Duke. Sam smiled, standing up. "Oh, no, dear Duke. We were rehearsing. For the play?"

"Rehearsing?" Lucifer said, eyeing Gabriel with the expression of someone who was fantasizing about long torture sessions. Gabriel looked like he was about to pass out.

"Yes, a rehearsal." Sam smiled, all innocence. "You see, I was just so _inspired_ by your presence that I called him for an emergency rehearsal."

Lucifer's death glare mostly faded, right about the time that Gabriel's heart was about to give out from the terror. "Where's Crowley then?"

Sam snorted, waving a graceful hand. "Oh, _Crowley_. He's a busy man."

And that was when Crowley burst through the door, looking like he was about to strangle someone. Gabriel sat down hard. There were too many dangerous people in the room, and his anxiety was through the roof. Lucifer and Sam both turned to look at the man, and Sam hurriedly said, "It's alright, Crowley, the Duke knows all about the _emergency rehearsal_. The one to incorporate his artistic ideas."

Crowley's eyes flicked to Lucifer, then back to Sam. "Uriel will be thrilled," he said slowly.

"Uriel left."

Crowley's eyebrows barely twitched up, but there was a distinct look of panic in his eyes.

"But!" Sam said with a slightly manic smile, "the good Duke is a big fan of our new writer's work. Which is why he's very, _very _keen on _investing_."

He may as well have set off a Chinese New Year's celebration's worth of fireworks in the room. "Invest. Really."

"Yes," Lucifer said a little warily, looking at the short, suddenly dangerously hungry looking man across from him. "Invest."

"Well," Crowley said with a charming smile, "you can't really blame me for hiding our sweet…" he looked blankly at Sam, who muttered, _Gabriel. _"Gabriel, away."

"I'm way ahead of you, Crowley," Lucifer said easily, apparently reassured and no longer inclined towards killing things. Gabriel slumped down in his chair, his head rate finally approaching something that could be considered only slightly faster than normal, rather than Death-Defying-Racing speeds.

"Then we can just slide on down to the office and go look over some paperwork," Crowley purred, his eyes wickedly gleaming at the thought of money.

Lucifer just looked amused. "What's the story?"

Everything came to a screeching halt.

"The story?" Crowley said weakly.

"Well, yes," Lucifer said, sitting down on one of the elaborately carved chairs. "If I'm going to invest in this thing, I'd like to at least know what it's about." He was watching Gabriel with intent eyes, the kind of eyes that people associate with snakes and other venomous things. Gabriel's heart rate picked back up, much to his distress. "So. Tell me what it's about."

Crowley seemed stumped. "Well, it's…" He looked at Gabriel. "Well?"

Gabriel opened his mouth, and all Hell broke loose as Balthazar, Victor, and Castiel burst in. There was Balthazar, looming up with a glass of absinthe, and Victor sitting down saying, "I hope the piano is tuned," and Castiel staring intently at Lucifer as though he were debating the finer points of eating human flesh. The room was a whirling, crazed mass of confusion, and when Crowley finally got everyone calmed down and introduced, Lucifer cleared his throat and looked expectantly at Gabriel again.

"It's…It's about love," Gabriel said, as everyone watched him. Lucifer twitched an eyebrow up.

"Love."

"Y-yes, love. Overcoming all obstacles!" Gabriel blurted out, and everybody made noises of agreement.

"And it's set in the Swiss Alps!" Balthazar supplied helpfully.

"Switzerland?" Lucifer said dryly, obviously unimpressed.

Looking around the room, Gabriel's eyes landed on a rather strange looking instrument. What was it called again? A sitter? Sitta? Sitar! Oh, god, this day was the most insane he'd ever had. "India! It's set in India." He grabbed the sitar, and everybody made a noise of understanding. "And…There's a courtesan. A very handsome one, the- the most beautiful courtesan in the entire world, and this is impressive, because this courtesan is a he."

Sam looked over at him, cheeks darkening a little as he blushed.

"And the courtesan, his-his kingdom gets invaded, see, by an evil Maharajah," Gabriel continued, grasping at straws. "And to save them all, he has to seduce the Maharajah, but on the night of the seduction, well, he accidentally thinks that a- a penniless…. sitar player! Yes, a penniless sitar play is dressed up like a Maharajah, because he was appearing in a play, and the courtesan _thinks_ it's him, but it isn't. And the sitar player didn't intend to trick the courtesan, but sometimes, these things happen."

Castiel grabbed the sitar from Gabriel and strummed some elaborate chords, to everyone's surprise. "I will play the penniless, tango dancing sitar player," he said firmly. Everyone nodded, looking a little weirded out.

"He sings like an angel and dances like the devil," Victor offered as backup.

Lucifer nodded, looking pleased by the idea. "Alright. And then what happens?"

"Well, the sitar player and the courtesan have to hide their love from the Maharajah, of course," Gabriel said. "And-and the sitar player's sitar is magic! It only speaks the truth!"

Balthazar grabbed the sitar from Castiel, who looked mildly affronted at the theft.

"And _I_ shall play the magical sitar," he announced, turning to Sam and pretending to play. "You are so very beautiful," he crooned, making Sam grin. "You are ugly," he said to Crowley, who scowled. "And you," he said, turning toward Lucifer.

"No!" everyone shouted, pulling him back.

Lucifer just laughed, apparently amused. "And he gives the game away, I would imagine."

"Oh, yes, yes," everyone said hurriedly, agreeing. Lucifer looked pleased and settled back in his chair.

"Oh, tell him about the can-can," Sam said, grabbing Gabriel's arm. He scrambled for ideas but, to everyone's surprise, Crowley came to the rescue.

"Tantric can-can," he said with a wicked grin, "is an erotic, spectacular scene that captures the wild, wicked Bohemian spirit that the whole piece was inspired by!"

Lucifer lifted an eyebrow. "And this means…."

"The show will be magnificent!" Crowley roared, throwing his hands in the air. "Opulent, vibrant, tremendous, stupendous, gargantuan bedazzlement! A sensual _ravishment_."

Everyone looked rather impressed at the string of words, and drew back as Crowley leaned in, eyes intent.

"It will be… Spectacular, Spectacular. No words in your vernacular could possible describe this great event. You'll turn _dumb_ with wonderment." He leaned in to murmur, "Returns are fixed at ten percent." Leaning back, he brushed his suit off, smiling more warmly now. "You must agree that's excellent. And on top of your fee…"

Everybody chimed in, leaning into Crowley with big smiles. "You'll be involved artistically!"

Victor ran a dramatic scale up the piano and started into the Finale from _Orpheus in the Underworld._

"So exciting, the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting, it will run for 50 years," everybody began singing as Lucifer watched, impressed. "So exciting the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting, it will run for 50 years!"

"Elephants!"

"Bohemians!"

"Indians!"

"And courtesans!" Sam cut in, grinning.

"Acrobats and juggling girls!"

"Exotic girls!"

"Fire eaters!"

"Musclemen and contortionists!"

"Intrigue, danger, and romance!" Gabriel called, twirling Castiel.

"Electric lights, machinery!"

"And all that electricity!" Crowley grinned, eyes bright with excitement.

Everybody came together for the chorus, getting into a line to do an attempt at a can-can. "So exciting, the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting, it will run for 50 years! So exciting, the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting, it will run for 50 years!"

There was a brief interlude for "The Sound of Music", and then everyone was back.

"So exciting, the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting, it will run for 50 years! So exciting, the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting, it will run for 50 years! Spectacular spectacular, no words in your vernacular, can describe this great event, you'll be dumb with wonderment!"

Lucifer looked them all over, eyebrows raising. "And just what happens in the end?"

Everyone looked at each other and then began running around the room, gathering up screens, fans, and other things to make a set. Someone turned on a small lamp, and Sam stuck two fans in his hair, which actually didn't look that bad.

Gabriel cleared his throat and set the stage, stepping away with his arms outstretched to indicate the tableau set before them all. Lucifer looked highly amused. "The courtesan and sitar man…" Castiel held Sam's hands with tenderness. "Are pulled apart by an evil plan!" The two dramatically fell away from each other.

"But in the end, he hears his song," Sam sang, and the two linked hands again.

"And their love is just too strong…" Gabriel sang back, and the two locked eyes for a moment, making Gabriel swallow hard.

"Ahh…It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside?" Lucifer hazarded, smiling a little nervously at all the crazy singing people.

They beamed at him.

"So exciting, the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting, it will run for 50 years! So exciting, the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting, it will run for 50 years!"

They switched scenes a little, and Crowley stuck a turban on his head, crossing his arms over his chest as Gabriel cleared his throat again. "The sitar player's secret song helps them flee the evil one!"

Crowley puffed out his chest and waved a fan like a sword, looking incredibly ridiculous. "I am the evil Maharajah! You will not escape!"

"Oh, Crowley, no one could play him like you," Sam said, grinning hugely.

"Nobody's going to, you ninny."

The chorus got together to keep singing, now sweating a little from exertion. "So exciting, we'll make them laugh, we'll make them cry! So exciting…"

Lucifer broke in, looking curious. "And in the end, should someone die?"

There was an awkward pause, and then the chorus continued, smiling manically as they can-canned. "So exciting, the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting, it will run for 50 years! So exciting, the audience will stomp and cheer, so delighting, it will run for fiiiiiiiiifttyyyyyyyy yeeeeeaaaaarrrrs!"

Victor finished with a flourish, and they all looked at Lucifer with desperate eyes. He looked them all over and finally grinned.

"Well, generally, I like it."

oOo

_So Crowley had an investor, and the Bohemian's had a show. It was a good night, and in the apartment above me, the party raged. I tried to write, but I couldn't get my mind away from the beautiful man that I'd met early in the day. And while Balthazar stripped down and danced on tables, and Castiel flirted shamelessly with a man named Dean and a woman named Meg, while Victor watched with hungry eyes, I looked out over Paris and thought of him._

In the elephant, Sam quietly slid on a dress in the quiet of his room. It was the same red as his coat from earlier, and he stared sadly at the mirror before pulling it back off and getting his coat again. A tiny picture of he and Dean was sitting in the door of his wardrobe, the two of them leaning together with wide smiles. His smile was a little shaky as he touched it, looking out the window at the flat across the way where the party was going on. He hadn't been allowed to go, locked up in the elephant to keep him "safe" for Lucifer. Not for the first time, he wished bitterly that he could have just been born a woman, and things would be simpler.

"A caged bird," he murmured, wishing he could be with Dean. He missed his brother desperately, and only rarely got to see him these days. Crowley kept them separated, as though letting him have Dean near him would cause him to grow a conscious or something.

Pulling on the fitted pants and boots, he settled the coat on his shoulders and tightened the strings he could reach. It rustled as he crossed the floor, the satin heavy as the train followed him to the chain across the heart window.

"I want to live," he told the world beyond his cage. "I can't stand being cooped up here."

The world was remarkably uncooperative, refusing to answer, and he gathered his coat in his hands to walk up the stairs, heart heavy. The air was cooler out of the elephant, and as he settled in the little pavilion on top, he had to bite back jealousy. The party looked fun. And crazy, actually, but all parties in Paris were. The lights of the city beyond gleamed bright in the cool night air, sparkling and gleaming like tiny stars plucked out of the sky and shoved into little lamps. Electricity was a strange and glorious thing.

But above, the stars stretched for eons, and he sat, sweeping his coat out of the way to look up at them with longing.

Below, a violinist was playing. The music touched him, and after a moment, he opened his mouth to sing.

"I…follow…the night…" he began hesitantly, listening to the slow swells. "Can't stand the light…" He rose, looking out onto the city. "When will I begin…to live…again…"

His heart swelled with emotion, and he found himself stepping forward more boldly. "One day I'll fly away," he sang, eyes closing. "Leave all this to yesterday. What more could your love do for me? When will love be through with me?" His eyes snapped open, a few tears gleaming on the lashes. "Why live life from dream to dream? Just to dread the day, when dreaming…ends."

The music stopped, and he brushed angrily at his eyes, glad that he'd already scrubbed the makeup off. He was sick of being trapped and sold to the highest bidder. He had dreams, yes, but he was beginning to question if it was worth all of this. Sitting back down on the plump cushions in the pavilion, he sniffled a little as he watched the party across from him.

"You have a beautiful voice."

Sam yelped and jumped up, clasping a hand to his heart as he saw Gabriel standing there, looking apologetic. "How- what- you _scared me to DEATH!"_

Gabriel held up placating hands, apologetic. "Sorry, sorry, I just- I heard you singing and the party really wasn't my thing and you- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Well," Sam said, taking a deep, shaky breath, "you did. I think I may have shaved a few years off my life, the way you made my heart jump."

Gabriel smiled a little nervously. "Sorry about that. I just wanted to come and-and thank you."

Sam brushed down his coat, taking a deep breath. "For what?"

"Um, getting me the job, mostly," Gabriel said, smiling a little.

"Oh! Right, yes, of course." Sam's smile stilled a little. "Balthazar was right. You're very talented. It's going to be a wonderful show." The two stared at each other for a bit before Sam turned around, flustered. "I've got to go. We've both got big days ahead of us and should get some sleep."

He was down just two of the stairs when Gabriel's voice came a little desperately. "Wait! Please, just…wait a moment."

Sam turned around to look at him. Gabriel was highlighted by the moon, making his hair gleam like a halo.

"Before," he said hesitantly. "When we were… when you thought I was the Duke. Did… You said that you loved me. Was that all an act?"

Sam felt a flash of sadness and pity. "Of course it was," he said quietly.

Gabriel looked lost and sad, like he wanted to reach out and didn't know how. "It's just… it felt real."

The sadness deepened, and it took all his training to keep his voice level as Sam said, "Gabriel, I'm a courtesan. You understand what that is, right? I'm paid to be a fantasy- everything someone wants, and can have for a reasonable price for a short while."

"Oh." Gabriel's face was fallen, and he looked away. "Silly of me to think that someone like you would ever fall for someone like me."

Sam frowned, inexplicably upset at seeing Gabriel looking unhappy. "I can't fall in love with anyone," he said, in the hopes that at least he'd feel a little better.

When Gabriel's head whipped around, his expression horror struck, he decided that probably hadn't been the best tactic.

"Can't fall in love? But that's- that's _horrible_!"

Sam snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes at the short man. "No, I'll tell you what's horrible. Sleeping on the streets and begging for food, _that's_ horrible."

"Love is like oxygen!" Gabriel scolded, going over to stand at the top of the stairs. They were almost the same height then, surprisingly enough. "Love- Love is a many splendored thing! Love lifts us up where we belong."

Sam shook his head, turning to talk down the stairs. "Don't start that again."

"All you need is love!"

Sam stopped on the stairs, turning to look at him. "A man has got to eat."

"All you need is love," Gabriel insisted, leaning on one of the posts.

"He'd end up on the street," Sam scolded, walking back up to the top of the elephant as Gabriel skipped backward to the pavilion.

"All you need is _loooove_," Gabriel crooned, grabbing a rose from one of the posts of them and sticking it between his teeth comically, almost getting Sam to laugh.

"Love," he informed him, "is just a game."

Jumping up, Gabriel whipped the rose out of his mouth and jumped on one of the benches. "I was made for loving you baby, and you were made for loving me!"

Sam rolled his eyes, tugged Gabriel off the cushions. "The only way of loving _me_, baby, is to pay a lovely fee."

Gabriel spun him a round, making Sam yelp. Jumping away, he sang, "Just one night, give me just one night!"

Shaking his head, Sam sang back, "There's no way, 'cause you can't pay."

Throwing his arms out, Gabriel called imploringly, "In the name of love! One night, in the name of love."

Sam sat down on the benches, watching Gabriel with some amusement. "You crazy fool, I won't give in to you."

Gabriel dramatically knelt down, resting his chin on Sam's knee with pleading eyes that were lit with mischief, and Sam chuckled, ruffling his hair just to watch Gabriel yelp and hurry to fix it. He settled back in, leaning on him, and Sam couldn't help but smile, touched by the sweetness that he exuded. "Don't leave me this way," Gabriel pleaded, batting his eyes. "I can't survive without your sweet love… oh, baby, don't leave me this way."

He was teasing, but Sam caught the vulnerability flashing beneath the surface. His fingers ran through Gabriel's hair, which was soft and wavy. "You'd think that people would've had enough of silly love songs," he said quietly, not meeting the man's eyes.

"I look around me and I see it isn't so, oh no," Gabriel replied, eyes closing in bliss.

"Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs," Sam said quietly.

"And what's wrong with that, I'd like to know," Gabriel said, standing up and letting a smile grow across his face. "Because here I go again!"

Sam shrieked, jumping up as Gabriel ran over and stood on top of the dome of the elephant, arms thrown out wide. "Gabriel!"

"Love lifts us up where we belong! Where eagles fly, over mountain's high!" Gabriel sang to the horizon, laughing brightly.

"Love makes us act like we are fools," Sam said, pacing in agitation until Gabriel spun around and jumped down, right next to him. He cuffed him over the head, chest heaving in fear. "Throw our lives away, for one happy day?"

"We could be heroes! Just for one day," Gabriel pleaded, and Sam sat firmly back down in the pavilion.

"You will be mean," he said firmly, looking away.

"Have you met me?"

"And I…I'd drink all the time."

"We should be lovers," Gabriel sang, dropping to a knee in front of him.

"We can't do that." But he looked down, and the longing was there. He knew the moment that Gabriel grasped onto it.

"We should be looooooovers, and that's a fact." Gabriel jumped up, grabbing his hands and pulling him up to spin him around. He laughed, barely steadying himself.

"Though nothing will keep us together," Sam whispered, leaning their foreheads together.

"We can steal time," Gabriel sang, holding his hands tight. "Just for one day."

"We could be heroes, forever and ever," Sam sang, smile widening, and Gabriel sang it back to him, making them spin.

"And we could be heroes," they sang and Sam's heart honestly felt like it would burst.

"And I! Will always love you!" He sang, as Gabriel sang, "And I can't help loving you…"

The words trailed off as they stood together, smiling with their eyes closed.

"How wonderful life is… now you're in…the world…." They sang together, and Sam smiled, laughing a little at the thrill of excitement that ran through him.

"You're going to be bad for business," he murmured, and Gabriel laughed, pulling him into a kiss that he'd remember for the rest of his life. Behind them, fireworks went off, and the full moon gleamed brightly as it watched, drum rolls echoing out of the house of a practicing band.

oOo

Across the street, watching them, Balthazar quietly sang, "How wonderful life is… now you're in… the world."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Truth, Tremors, and the Torrent

_How wonderful life was, now that Sam was in my world. It was like all the great songs had come true, and I was walking on air._

_But with Duke Lucifer, Crowley soon found that he'd perhaps bitten off more than he could chew…_

Lucifer, Crowley had learned, dressed like he was prepared to kill people while managing to keep a speck of blood from touching him. He was not a big man, but his suits, slick silks and linens, somehow filled him out so that even when he was just sitting, he looked like an imposing King upon a throne.

Crowley did not like him.

He liked his money, but he definitely didn't like the man. Lucifer was the kind of dangerous that was a threat to any good business, and his bodyguard was another nasty piece of work. He smiled with too many teeth, and if he had to take a guess, Crowley would say the man had probably seen skinning and enjoyed them. He was also wearing a positively hideous red tie, and, let's be honest, Crowley hated it when people who weren't him wore red.

"Changing the Moulin Rouge into a proper theater is going to cost a nightmarish sum of money," Lucifer said as he draped one leg over the other in Crowley's cramped little office. (There is only so much room behind a stage.) "Which, as you well know, I have. So, as a nice trade, I'd like a contract drawn up that will officially turn over ownership of Sam's debts to me, thereby binding him to me."

Crowley hated this man.

"And, I shall need some security, by way of the deeds to the place," Lucifer continued, looking down at his nails with an air of slight boredom.

"The deeds?" Crowley said, heart sinking.

Lucifer's eyes flicked up, and once again he was forcibly reminded of a snake. The man was a horror to work with. "I'm no fool, Crowley. The deeds, or this doesn't happen. And should there be any…_shenanigans_," he said, his voice a low hiss that made Crowley's skin crawl, "my manservant Warner will handle them in the only way you and your underworld kind seem to understand." He took a slow, calming breath. "You must understand. Sam will be mine. And it's not that I'm a jealous man, Mr. Crowley." The temperature in the room seemed to drop drastically, and Crowley shivered. "I just intensely dislike other people touching my things."

"I understand completely," Crowley said slowly, and went to fetch the deeds.

"Good," Lucifer said when all was signed, smiling with all his teeth. "I'll do my best to woo Sam over dinner."

oOo

_But Sam did not attend dinner with Lucifer that night, or the night after that. Instead, he could be found with us, with the Bohemian's, laughing as I worked on the play and Balthazar cooked for us. It was a happy time. I was writing like a madman, and even came up with a line that, properly delivered by Balthazar (who it should be noted was awful at memorization) would make the whole play perfect._

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return._

_It was a master stroke of writing, my favorite line of the whole affair, and everything was perfect._

_We began spending more and more time together, between rehearsals. It was easy to do, slipping away across the street for a quick roll in the sheets or just sliding behind pillars to steal kisses. And we had all kinds of good reasons too, of course, because let's face it. The writer and the lead often had to be in sync._

_It grew easier and easier to hide, even as Lucifer became more and more frustrated and determined to spend time with Sam. And Sam did give in from time to time. One memorable occasion, I attended a picnic with the two of them, carrying the basket as Warner silently wandered along, smirking as Sam and Lucifer were stared at. He had worn strange clothes that day, a sort of half-dress half suit that had people gawking. Lucifer preened as they walked along, and how gentle he was with Sam. And I remember wondering if maybe I wasn't the only one who had fallen for him…_

oOo

It was shortly after dark when Crowley unlocked the door to the elephant, and Sam jumped up from where he'd been sitting, excited.

Crowley glowered pointedly at him as he opened the door. "_Behave_," he warned, and Sam beamed, rushing over to hug Dean tightly when he walked through the door. Dean laughed, holding him just as tight as Crowley closed the door and locked it again.

"Oh, god, I've missed you," he mumbled into Dean's shoulder, squeezing and lifting him until his brother wheezed and pounded on his back to make him let go. It was an old game, and just that simple fact alone made everything better. Dean grinned as he was set back down, looking happier than he had in months.

"What did you do to talk him into letting me come over?" he asked, looking around the room.

"Begged, pleaded, and told him I'd complain to Lucifer if he didn't cooperate," Sam said with an air of smugness. "It's getting to be my most useful threat, I think."

Dean laughed, and flopped down on the pile of pillows on the bed. Sam jumped on after, offering him a box of chocolates. Dean accepted with a raised eyebrow as Sam popped one in his mouth.

"Sam, these are _Lindt. _From _Switzerland_."

Sam grinned around the chocolate, nodding. He swallowed quickly and snagged another, looking far too pleased with himself. "I'm being spoiled. I love it." Dean shook his head in amusement and plucked out his own, groaning at the sweet taste. Sam laughed, excited and hearted by the look of pure bliss on his brother's face.

"You're wearing more men's clothes as well," Dean said after he managed to swallow. It was true. He had been allowed more suits lately, which he was thrilled about. And that night, instead of the typical nightgown he was often forced into, someone had gifted him with comfortable cotton pajamas in the Indian style, which draped comfortably over him. He'd been let out of the corset for the night, which had been a relief, and the ability to flex and move more easily had been apparent as he draped himself languidly over pillows. "Did you have to talk Crowley into that one as well?"

"Sort of. When Lucifer finally gets me to go out on the town with him, it's easier for everyone if I'm dressed more masculine." Sam shrugged, and Dean frowned, beckoning him over when he saw the quiet upset in his eyes.

"Hey," he said quietly when Sam curled up and put his head in his lap, just as they had when they were little. "I know this wasn't ever your plan."

"We had to get out somehow," Sam shrugged, closing his eyes as Dean gently stroked his hair. "And, you know, this way I get to do the things I wanted to. Even if it's not in the clothes I want to be wearing."

"People know you're not a woman," Dean said, heart breaking a little when Sam curled up tighter at the words. "And when you get out, maybe you can get away. Take your money and go- I dunno, live in a little farm house in England with six dogs and a bunch of sheep where no one would ever think that you were ever dressing like a woman."

"I like that plan," Sam said, his voice a little hazy as he relaxed. "I don't want to be what they all think I am. I just want to be me."

"Does Gabriel think you're some perfect mix?" Dean asked, smiling a little as Sam's eyes snapped open and he turned his head to look up at him in fear. "Relax, Sam, I'm not going to go telling. You're happy, he's happy, it's okay. Long as you two idiots don't get caught. And, y'know, I'm happy. Even if Gabriel is a weird little mongoose."

"Weird- _you're_ a weird little mongoose!"

Dean began mercilessly tickling him, and Sam shrieked with laughter, trying to get away as Dean relentlessly went on the attack. Pillows went flying, and eventually they ended up both laughing, Sam's head resting on Dean's chest as they sprawled out. Dean was still smiling when Sam suddenly started coughing.

"Sam?"

His brother got up quickly, going over to fetch a handkerchief that had been left on the table the held food when he was entertaining, and held it to his lips. Dean's heart sank as he listened to the coughs. He knew the sound far too well, and stood up to go and rub Sam's back.

"I'm alright," Sam mumbled when he was done, but he looked worn out and tired. "I've just had a bit of a cough lately."

"Yeah," Dean said, his voice quiet. "C'mon, let's get you to bed, see if some sleep won't clear it up."

Sam smiled at him, and for the first time Dean saw the lines that were beginning to mar his perfect skin, how tired he looked. How vulnerable.

As he badgered Sam into bed and turned down the lights, he felt sick to his stomach. Looking out of the heart in the elephant at the apartments across the street, his heart sank even further when he saw lights on, and Castiel arguing good naturedly with Balthazar. They were two tiny dots, but easily picked out, and he made himself turn away to go and lay on the covers of the rich bed, stroking Sam's hair.

"I love him, you know," Sam said abruptly.

"Gabriel?"

Sam nodded, and Dean sighed, wishing life were simple. "And what are you going to do about that?"

"Oh, what people always do," Sam said, a smile in his voice.

"And what might that be, Samuel "I can't give a straight answer" Winchester?" Dean teased, smiling a little.

"Love him until the end of time."

Dean's heart broke a little more, and he gently squeezed Sam's shoulder. "You do that, Sammy," he said quietly, and Sam rolled over to pillow his head on Dean's chest, listening to his heart beat. "Hey, you. What're you doing?"

"Sleepin'."

"Is there any way to convince you to use a pillow instead?"

"Not a chance."

"Didn't think so."

Sam grinned, pleased with himself, and Dean shook his head in exasperation. Sam had always been a bit of an odd duck, and this was far from the strangest thing he'd ever put his mind to doing.

"So," he said quietly, still stroking Sam's hair. "Tell me about Gabriel."

Sam immediately brightened up, and as the two slowly drifted off, Dean listened to his brother talking happily about Gabriel and all the wonderful things he did, and how perfect he was. And even though he knew that sometime soon, there would be hard times, he couldn't help but smile.

oOo

The day after, Sam was sitting with Lucifer and watching the rehearsal of one of the dances as Gabriel came in. The Moulin Rouge was becoming a splendid hall, and he looked around in appreciation for a moment before sidling up behind the duo. They were talking quietly together, Sam laughing as Lucifer smiled at some joke he'd told. Gabriel's own smile was fairly wide. Sam seemed happy, and that was always something that would always make Gabriel happy in turn. He did felt a faint stab of jealousy though. The two were beautiful together, almost dangerously so, and they were allowed to be close and open with each other. He wished, not for the first time, that they could walk down the streets hand in hand together.

Sam laughed again, his hand on Lucifer's arm, and he decided to break in.

"Monsieur Sam," he said, striding over and leaning towards Sam from behind Lucifer's back. "I was wondering if we might run a few lines tonight."

"Tonight?" Lucifer asked, sounding legitimately upset. "Sam, I've arranged a lovely meal for us in the Gothic Tower."

"My dear Duke, we are reaching a most important climax in the writing," Sam said indignantly, standing up with a sweep of silks. He was dressed in a long coat that fell in front of him like a dress that day, and looking exceptionally stunning, with his face made up extra dramatically. Both Gabriel and Lucifer caught their breath at the sight of his dramatic show. "We will run lines tonight until I am _completely_ satisfied." And with that, he turned and swept away.

"I'm so sorry," Gabriel said awkwardly to the Duke, and Lucifer made a noise of annoyance, waving him away.

It didn't take much for him to sneak away from the rehearsal, slipping upstairs to find Sam up in the balcony. The other man laughed quietly, beckoning him over, and Gabriel hurried. It didn't take much for Sam to grab him and hoist him up to pin him against one of the draped pillars, Gabriel's legs locking behind his waist as they kissed hungrily. It was quick and messy and totally ridiculous, and they giggled like schoolboys the entire time.

oOo

"Excellent rehearsal everybody," Crowley called as people began filing towards the doors. "Tomorrow is "The Lover's are Discovered", so make sure you memorize your steps tonight. Jeremiah, do _not_ come drunk, I will let Dean beat you."

Dean cracked his knuckles and grinned at the offender, who groaned and grabbed his coat. Chuckling, Crowley turned to head backstage when Lucifer abruptly stepped in front of him.

"Ah, Duke, everything's prepared for tonight," Crowley said smoothly. "Cake and everything."

"You might as well eat it yourself," Lucifer informed him, eyes glittering darkly. "He's still off gallivanting with the writer. I understand that his work is important to him, but I'm growing impatient." He took a deep breath, fixing his hair. "If I don't see him tonight, I may very well remove my funding."

As Crowley looked up at the man, he saw the flash of silk from Sam's coat, and the leg wrapped around it. His heart stopped for a moment, and as Lucifer frowned, turning to see what he was staring at, he said sharply, "I'll insist to the boy that he take the night off. You're right, he's working too much. Relaxation is important."

Thus distracted, Lucifer nodded, his mask of calm slipped back on. "Very well. 8 o'clock then."

"Of course," Crowley said, and as the man walked away, he felt the first sparks of fury and terror.

oOo

"You'll come tonight?" Gabriel asked as Sam let him down, his face covered with lipstick. Sam grinned, covering his mouth.

"Yes, yes," he whispered, and Gabriel staggered away, shirt untucked as he moved towards the hallways down to the main floor.

"At 8 o'clock," Gabriel called, and Sam leaned against the pillar, still laughing.

"Yes, I know," he called back softly, his smile wide. "_Go_, you idiot."

Gabriel laughed and slipped away as Sam leaned against the pillar with his fingers pressed to his lips, closing his eyes as he remembered the feeling of Gabriel's mouth pressed to his. The sharp tap of footsteps made him look up, and his smile faded as he saw Crowley looking at him.

"Have you gone mad?" the man said, his voice low and dangerous as he approached with deliberate steps. "The Duke holds the deeds to the Moulin Rouge. He's gifted you with extraordinary things, fixed half the dressing rooms in this place because you asked. He intends to make you the star of Paris, perhaps all Europe and you." Crowley stopped in front of him, eyes glittering with carefully contained fury. "You are here, fucking the writer."

Sam tried a smile. "Crowley, don't be ridiculous-"

The slap caught him off guard and he cowered down, eyes wide with fear as Crowley snarled, "I saw you with him." He looked at the man with scared eyes, clutching his cheek as he hunkered down. Despite all the time he'd been working with Crowley, he'd never once been hit, and to have him do it now was terrifying.

"It's just an infatuation," he whispered, turning his face away as he slumped to the ground. He was still within striking distance, but not where Crowley would be more inclined to hurt him.

"Break it off," Crowley said coldly, fingers running through Sam's hair. His touch was remote, disinterested. "The Duke owns your contract. Go to the brat, tell him it's over. The Duke expects you for dinner. You will be there, and you will make him happy. Are we understood?"

Sam said nothing, and a hard pull on his hair made him look up with scared eyes. Crowley seemed content with whatever he saw in them and let go, walking away quietly.

Sam put a hand to his mouth to keep from sobbing, and made his way to the stairs to think.

oOo

Sam was trying to fight down tears when Lucifer found him sitting on the stairs.

"Sam?" his voice was gentle, almost soothing, and Sam looked up as a hand met his shoulder. Lucifer was tall and graceful, his lean body neatly folded up in his slick black suit.

"Oh, Duke," Sam said helplessly, carefully dabbing his eyes to keep the makeup from smearing too much more. He'd fixed his face, the redness from the slap having faded already. Beyond them, there was the calling and laughing of the day's rehearsal drawing to a close, and the lights were starting to dim. Lucifer sat next to him on the steps, looking at him with attentive eyes. Sam gave him a wobbly smile. "It's nothing, I'm just not feeling at my best."

Lucifer made a noise of sympathy, wrapping his arm around Sam's shoulders to pull him in under his chin. The gesture made him feel small again, and he curled into the warm touch, soothed by the gentle way Lucifer was holding him. The man could be terrifying at times, but once in a while he could be sweet. He'd seen the sweet side more and more lately.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you would come to dinner tonight," Lucifer murmured, stroking his hair with long, delicate fingers. "I never seem to spend enough time with you."

Sam stiffened, thinking of Gabriel's invitation for the same.

"Of course, I know you'd like to go and sleep with your pet, but once in a great while I'd like to have you to myself," he continued, and Sam was fairly certain he was going to pass out.

"Duke-"

Lucifer interrupted him, kissing the top of his head. "Don't worry so much, I'm not angry. It's good for you to enjoy yourself, and I have to say I can't see the writer as much of a challenge. I'd just prefer it if you enjoyed your time with me a little more." Sam pulled away, looking at him helplessly, and Lucifer smiled. "I'll see you at eight then." He rose, a hand gently caressing Sam's head before he walked away down the stairs, brushing down his suit.

Sam buried his face in his hands, and finally let go of the tears that had been threatening since Crowley had left him to his thoughts. Forcing himself to breathe and wiping away the tears, he rose and descended into the depths of the Moulin Rouge. His mind was whirring as he made his way to the grimy sink in the back to wash his face. The water was back in the dark, the dim light glinting on the surface as he dipped in his hands to splash it over his face.

So this was to be the end, he though dimly to himself. He was to be with Lucifer, say goodbye to the man that he'd fallen in love with, and carry on with the original plan.

No, he decided, splashing more water firmly across his face. He'd worked too long and too hard to just give in to Lucifer's wants now. He would have what he wanted, and that would be the end of it.

A cough tore from his throat, and he covered his mouth with his hand, trying to hold them back, but it was no use. His heart fluttered painfully as he struggled to breathe, half choking as something caught in his throat as he tried to get the coughing under control. Gripping the sink, he stared down into the fractured reflection, and didn't even notice when a few drops of blood fell from his lips to the small pool.

"Sam?" Dean's voice seemed very far away, and he looked up helplessly, wondering where he was. "Sam!"

The world went dark, and the last thing he could remember was Dean's terrified face as he fell slowly to the floor.

oOo

_How could I have known, how could any of us have known, that in those last fatal days, a force darker than jealousy and more powerful than love was working to take Sam from us? _

_As the Duke paced the Gothic Tower, and I stood watching and waiting from my flat, doctors were looking over an unconscious Sam as Dean watched. He was coughing in his sleep, weak and helpless as blood was drawn and analyzed. "Not until morning," the doctors said. "He won't move until then, he's sick, dangerously so." And so we waited. And waited. And in the tower… The Duke paced._

"You will be mine," he whispered, looking out over the grounds. "I will have you, and I will keep you, and nothing will touch you ever again." Lucifer's hands tightened on the railing, and splinters fell away, down into the darkness. "No unclean hands will ever dare roam over your skin again."

Behind him, in the main room of the Gothic Tower, Crowley was sitting and looking at his watch with impatient eyes. But Sam had yet to emerge from the main building, and Lucifer was growing impatient. He knew that the men behind him were wary of being around him for so long, and he couldn't blame them. He was hardly the most enthusiastic person to be around for long periods of time.

Shoving away from the balcony railing, he headed towards the door. Panicked, one of the men rushed over to Crowley, who in turn looked at his watch.

"Must have gone over with the priest."

There was a sudden pause, and Lucifer slowly turned to stare at the man. "The _priest_?"

Crowley nodded, putting away his pocket watch. "He said the two of you talked."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, and he strode over to the much shorter man. Crowley looked up at him with polite curiosity. Taking a deep breath, Lucifer said coolly, "Mr. Crowley, do you take me for a fool? An imbecile?"

"Indeed not," Crowley said smoothly.

"Then why, pray tell, do you expect me to believe that Samuel Winchester is off visiting, of all people," Lucifer calmly exhaled, forcing himself to cool down. "A. Priest."

Crowley sat at the table, pulling out a handkerchief to rub at a stain on one of the glasses. "Of course. That's what people do before they get married, isn't it? They go and find a priest to confess their deepest, darkest secrets to, so that they can be absolved and become clean?"

Lucifer's brain ground to a halt at the word marriage, but caught back up soon enough. He leaned over Crowley, eyeing him suspiciously. "What, exactly, are you saying?"

"He's looking at tonight like it's his _wedding," _Crowley said, as though Lucifer was a little thick in the skull. "He wanted to go and get himself… cleaned up for you."

"Cleaned up?"

"Well, you know," Crowley said, eyes glittered with dark intent. "He's gone to the priest, to make himself new again. To make himself…" he hesitated, and then pulled Lucifer down so he was right at his ear. "You make him feel _virgin_."

The air went still, and Lucifer licked his lips. "Is that so."

"Oh yes," Crowley said, letting him go with a bit of a smirk. "You know… touched. For the very first time."

Lucifer sat and pulled over some of the feast, preparing to eat. The feast _was_ magnificent, and he was hungry. He waved at one of the page boys that had been standing around, and the boy hurried to open the wine. Crowley smiled approvingly, holding out his glass. It was a very good year, after all, he wasn't about to let Lucifer drink it all.

"You have to understand that he's been quite thoroughly used," Crowley said, as though they were discussing the weather. "But he told me that when you're holding him, when you're touching him, he feels so much better inside." He sipped the wine as Lucifer plucked a piece of the rather delectable looking ham up. "Didn't really know how lost he was until he found you, y'know. But he made it through the wilderness somehow. He was beat when I found him. All messed up and sick, lost with that brother of his on the streets. They were a mess, the two of them. But you… you make him feel all shiny and new."

Lucifer licked his lips as he polished off the ham, going for the glass.

"Ah, virgins," Crowley mused, smiling a little wistfully as he took some of the ham. "Touched for the very first time. They're so sweet, so painfully innocent. And their hearts beat so very fast at first, that quick, desperate pitter-pat. And when your hearts are beating in time, well." The two of them chuckled and Lucifer drank deep from the wine glass. "Virgins. They give you all their love, pour it all into pleasing you. That fear just slips away, and suddenly they're yours. Owned and kept."

Lucifer didn't even try to disguise the hunger in his eyes, and Crowley grinned at the sight.

"He'll be yours 'til the end of time, just because you made him feel like he has nothing to hide," Crowley said, motioning for someone to pour him another glass. The page hurried to do so, and Lucifer leaned back in his chair, savoring the wine.

"Mine," he mused. "And how bold he makes me, now that his love's thawed out. What was scared and cold has faded."

The two looked at each other and grinned, clinking glasses.

"_Virgins_," Crowley purred, and they drank.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Vicious, Voracity, and Terminal Velocity

_Crowley's careful lies had averted what could have been a horrific disaster. But no lies, careful, brilliant, or otherwise, could save Sam…_

It was dark in the little dressing room where Sam lay quietly sleeping, a change from the wheezing, gasping, coughing man of only a few hours earlier. Bobby was quietly putting away his supplies, and didn't jump when Crowley loomed out of the shadows. The man dressed darker and darker lately, a change from the dramatic reds he had favored earlier, and thus was easier to hide.

"Well?" He said quietly, looking over the sleeping man.

"He's dying, Crowley," Bobby said flatly, standing up with his bag in hand. "It's consumption, and it's fairly far along."

There was a flash of shock and pain on Crowley's face, and then it was carefully hidden away, tucked behind a mask of stone. Bobby knew better than to comment. He'd worked with the man long enough now to know that when he decided that he felt a specific way, it was easier to let him believe that than fight him.

"He mustn't know, Bobby," Crowley said quietly, surprising him.

"What?"

"The show must go on."

And with that, Crowley slipped back into the shadows, where the only thing to mark his passing was the faint groan of floorboards. Bobby stood stock still in the dressing room, helpless, and looked down at the sleeping boy. Perhaps it was for the best.

oOo

_All night, the penniless sitar player had waited for his courtesan. Now, in the cold light of the morning, he felt, for the first time, the cold and cruel stabs of jealousy._

"Where were you last night?" Gabriel asked quietly from where he was sitting in the window. Sam, wrapped in Gabriel's sheets and with thoroughly impressive sex hair, slowly lifted his head from the pillow to look at him.

"Gabriel, I told you this earlier," he said, sounding a little confused as he rearranged himself to look at him a little easier. "I was sick."

Gabriel looked away from the window to watch Sam, heart squeezed by jealousy. It was early morning, golden sun pouring into the room and making everything gleam. Sam's hair had become a halo around him, even as he fought it back to normal, and the light seemed to caress his skin, making him glow like some unearthly, ethereal thing. He turned away, unable to bear it. "You don't have to lie to me."

"I didn't–" Sam stopped with an angry huff, annoyed, and settled back down into bed. Another few minutes passed that way, until he said quietly, "We have to break it off."

Gabriel's head snapped around to stare at him, blatantly shocked. Sam refused to look at him, continuing, "Everybody knows, Gabriel. Crowley knows, he's made it…very clear to me, that he knows." His hand absently reached up to rub the cheek that Crowley had hit. "Sooner or later, the Duke will find out that we're still together and it won't be pretty. He already knows, and made it pretty clear that he expects me to be leaving you soon." He finally looked up to look at Gabriel, whose face was stricken. "I have to sleep with him opening night, there's no way around that. I'm not a fool, I know that the jealousy will drive you mad."

Gabriel ran a shaking hand over his face, jumping out of the window so that he could pace around the room, clearly shocked. Sam's shoulders slumped. "Gabriel…"

"I'll write a song," he blurted out, wheeling to face him. "I'll write us a song, and we'll put it in the show." He climbed onto the bed, smiling shakily at Sam. "And that way, when- when you hear it, or hum it, or sing it, it'll mean that we love each other. I promise, I won't get jealous."

"It's not that simple," Sam argued, but he wasn't sounding very convinced. "Gabriel, we need to end this." It was clear to see that he was unhappy, and with a shaking hand, Gabriel reached out to stroke his cheek. Sam closed his eyes, lip trembling a little as he caught Gabriel's hand and held it there. He turned his head to kiss his palm, taking deep, shuddering breaths. The world outside felt like it was spiraling out of control, faster and faster as it reached a terminal velocity, even as inside the apartment, alone together, the world was still and safe.

"Never knew…" Gabriel sang shakily. "I could feel like this. Like I'd never seen the sky before…"

Sam let out a broken sob, pressing their foreheads together and pulling Gabriel in close to him, and they held each other tight, tears running down Sam's face.

"Want to vanish inside your kiss…" Gabriel breathed, pressing kisses across his face and wiping away the tears. "Each day I love you, more and more."

oOo

The words became wrapped in Sam's everyday life, a shield against all the insanity that surrounded him. They were there at rehearsal, as he and Castiel practiced lines, dramatically grabbing each others' hands and dancing around the stage, memorizing songs and careful steps as Gabriel watched and critiqued.

_Season's may change, winter to spring._

There when Gabriel pressed fond kisses to the top of his hair as they lounged together in his dressing room.

_But I love you, until the end of time._

They were there the nights that Dean stayed with him, and when they laughed and joked together he couldn't remember being happier than he was at that moment. They were even there when Dean fell asleep, or came to him shaky from whichever client had left him battered.

_Come what may… Come what may._

They were always there when he was out on a walk with Lucifer, his skin crawling because the man was watching him with hungry eyes that were desperate to devour. They were a savior from the way the man would run his hands over his sides and back, possessive and cloying with their intensity.

_I will love you, until my dying day._

On the days when Lucifer would take him to the park and they would sit and picnic together, they were a particular boon. The man was growing more frustrated by the day, hungry to claim him and keep him for himself, and Sam's excuses were running thin. Lucifer could be kind, but he couldn't shake the look in the man's eyes that promised him pain later down the road.

_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place…_

_Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace._

_Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste…_

_It all revolves around you._

Sam and Gabriel found time to be together whenever they could, but their time was limited. With Crowley prowling around, more than willing to punish Sam for still hanging around with their writer, they had to be more careful. But it was well worth it, and once they began seeing each other in earnest, Sam blossomed in Gabriel's presence. He'd been happy before, but now he was in a sort of domestic bliss all the time, curling up with him and nuzzling into his side. He became Sam Winchester under Gabriel's care, not Sam the courtesan, and the difference was obvious.

_And there's no mountain to high_

_No river to wide_

_Sing out this song and I'll be there_

_By your side_

Rehearsal's went well, and soon they were approaching the finish of the Moulin Rouge's conversion. Soon people were being fitted for their final costumes, and Gabriel found himself being fitted for a proper tuxedo for the first night.

_Storm clouds may gather_

_And stars may collide!_

_But I love you_

_I love you…_

_Until the end _

_Of_

_Time._

And then, sudden, it was the close to last rehearsal, and there they all were up on the stage, singing the song in a run through that should have been the most routine thing in the business. Gabriel was singing along with, beaming as they all sang in perfect tune, and Lucifer was watching, and Castiel and Sam were the perfect mix of dramatic but believable. The finale ended on a perfect note, and everyone looked over at Lucifer, who had gone very still.

"Well?" Sam asked, eyes bright.

"How curious," Lucifer said, his voice quietly, and suddenly the hall was very still. "You know, Meg pointed out something very interesting to me today." He rose, as everyone turned to look at Meg. She looked back at them all, distinctly uninterested, and Castiel's eyes narrowed at her. She shrugged, rolling her eyes. Lucifer settled his coat better on his shoulders, looking over them all. "This ending makes no sense."

"What?" Gabriel said, stunned.

"No, really." Lucifer's eyes were fixed on Sam, cold and intense. "Why on Earth would the courtesan pick the sitar player when the Maharajah is offering him a better life? Everything he ever dreamed of, riches beyond imagining… After all, once the sitar player has satisfied his lust, he'll leave the courtesan with nothing." His smile was deadly. "So, I would suggest, that instead, the ending is changed so that our sweet courtesan chooses the Maharajah instead."

Balthazar spoke up from his costume as the sitar, annoyed. "But that ending doesn't fulfill the Bohemian ideals of Truth, Beauty, Freedom, and Love-"

Lucifer's head snapped to him. "Does it seem like I particularly care about your bizarre dogma?" he asked, cold as ice. He turned his attention back to the cast, and Castiel looked nervously at Sam, feeling how the man's hands were shaking. "So tell me…" he said quietly, looking at them all. "Why shouldn't the courtesan pick the Maharajah?"

"Because he doesn't love you!"

Everybody turned to look at Gabriel, and as Lucifer slowly turned, Sam's eyes widened with fear.

"Him," Gabriel croaked out, the realization clearly hitting him. "He doesn't love…him."

"I see," Lucifer said quietly, looking at Gabriel. "Well. If you want your show to go on, rewrite the ending. Have the courtesan choose the Maharajah." He stepped forward, until he was directly in front of Gabriel, who was shaking with suppressed rage as they stared each other down. "And drop the lovers song. Rehearse it in the morning, and it will be ready by nightfall."

"Duke," Crowley said from the stage, looking horrified at the idea, but Sam dropped Castiel's hand and lifted his chin. Behind them, Dean fretfully started to move forward, only to be grabbed firmly by Meg and Ruby and pulled back with hissed warnings.

"Crowley," he said calmly, descending the tiers of the stage. Lucifer turned, and for the first time it was clear just how upset he truly was. His eyes were wild, but settled a little as Sam walked to him. "Our Duke is upset, can't you see that? And he is our financier, we can't let him be unhappy." He stopped in front of Lucifer, resplendent in the days attire. He gleamed in the light, the long coat with its mandarin collar and half black, half oxblood coloring gleaming. The pants were oxblood as well, and the whole affair was trimmed in golden designs, swirls and careful pictures in the cloth. His hair was pinned up, and fans were tethered there. He cut an imposing figure, a good deal taller than the Duke, who was now trembling a little.

Sam ducked his head, all sweet submission now that he was close, and reached out to gently smooth Lucifer's suit coat. "The writers let their imaginations run fast and free," he murmured gently, almost caressing the soft wool. "So, sweetheart, why don't we have some supper, and spend some time relaxing, just you and me? And after that's done, we can tell Crowley which ending we want."

Lucifer let out a deep breath, leaning into Sam's touch as Gabriel looked away, biting his lip hard.

oOo

"I don't want you to sleep with him."

Sam took a deep breath from where he was digging through his trunk of things, dresses and suits flung haphazardly out of it as he searched for what he wanted. "Gabriel, this really isn't an option right now. The man could ruin everything, he could shatter your career before it even gets started, and you want me to throw all that away?"

Gabriel looked up from where he was sitting on the bed of the elephant, his expression miserable. Dean was pacing at the front near the heart cut out, his hair wild from how many times he had run his hands through it. Sam sighed, turning to look at the small man. "It's for us," he said quietly, and Dean groaned, stalking away up to the top of the elephant.

Gabriel rose, going over to look miserably at Sam's newly corseted waist. Dean had been forced to do it to the extreme this time, giving him curves where none were meant to be. He reached out, feeling the smooth curve of his new shape, and Sam caught his hand, making him look up. Gabriel sighed, head dropping.

"You promised, Gabriel," Sam whispered, carefully sitting on one of the rickety chairs. "You promised me that you wouldn't get jealous, you promised me that you were okay. It'll be alright."

Gabriel shook his head, stepping away, and Sam rose again, reaching out to pull him into a tight hug. Gabriel clutched him back, biting back his frustration.

"I'm just so tired of fighting for this," he said brokenly, and Sam squeezed him tighter. "I'm just so tired, Sammy, I'm so tired. I don't want you to leave, I want us to just go away, flee and never come back."

"I know," Sam whispered, kissing the top of his head. "I know."

They stood together for a moment before Sam said, his voice breaking a little, "Dean's going to help me finish preparing."

Gabriel stepped back, smiling shakily. "Alright. You'll…you'll look amazing, I'm sure."

Sam nodded, and Gabriel turned, walking towards the door.

"Come…what may," Sam sang hesitantly as Gabriel's hand fixed on the doorknob. He turned, smiling even though a few tears were clearly threatening to spill. "I will love you…until my dying day."

Gabriel opened the door and stepped through, and Sam crumpled onto the bed, trying to keep his wits about him as he tried not to cry. A hand gently squeezed his shoulder, and he looked up tearfully at Dean. His face was an impassive mask, and Sam took as deep a breath he could.

"Time to put your armor on," Dean said, helping him up. "This is going to be the performance of your life."

Sam let himself be helped into the dark dress, swallowing hard when Dean carefully did up the laces and zippers that kept it all in place. The velvet clung to him like a second skin, the sparkling glass of the red sash gleaming in the light. He'd only ever worn it once, when he'd first been learning the art of seduction, and now, it was time to give the thing new life. Dean helped him put the satin gloves on, silent, letting Sam ready himself. A solitary ring was added, and then he was carefully sat down, Dean's calloused fingers carefully pinning up his hair from his neck.

"You're going to be fine tonight," Dean said quietly, deftly pinning up the hair with an elaborate silver comb.

"Think so?" Sam asked, looking at himself with pure misery. The person staring back at him in the mirror was no man. He had been transformed into something in between, a mix of male and female. He felt like a shape shifter, stuck between forms.

"Yes," Dean said bluntly, picking up the pots of makeup to begin work on his face with careful precision. "I know you, Sam. We'll put on your war paint and your armor, even if it is made of velvet." He carefully rouged Sam's cheeks. "And you'll walk into battle with silk and satin on your skin, and you will be the most glorious, dangerous knight to ever walk the Earth. People fell at your feet a long time before we were plucked off the streets, and even if I can't save you from this life, you can sure as hell save yourself."

"Thanks for believing in me that much," he said quietly, as his brother picked up the lipstick.

"Of course," Dean said quietly, painting him up.

"And for what it's worth," Sam said timidly, "I hope that Castiel decides he hates her."

Dean's eyes flicked up to his, and his mouth became a thin, strained line as he finished. "I hope so too," he said quietly. After a few more minutes work, he stood back, nodding. "You're done."

Sam rose, taking as deep a breath as he could.

It was time.

oOo

_Sam went to the tower to save us all. And for our part, we could do nothing. In the cavernous hall of the Moulin Rouge, we waited. We could do nothing but simply wait. And as we waited, Sam climbed the steps of the tower to have the doors opened for him, and through the veil of silk that Dean had draped over his face like a veil of mourning, he said, "Dear Duke…I hope I have not kept you waiting."_

The main hall of the Moulin Rouge was mostly quiet. No one had gone home for the evening, instead opting to stay and wait. Scattered conversation was to be had, but it was stilted and soon dried up, as did the tea that someone brought out. There was a cloud of smoke drifting out of the little opening at the top, the haze from the cigarettes being sucked away into the dark. In the corner, Balthazar was quietly working his way through his third glass of absinthe, accompanied by a grim faced Dean who had chain smoked his way through half of his stash. Castiel was on the stage, his gaze flicking to where Meg and Ruby were conversing before going back to Dean. Gabriel was watching him watch the others, desperate for even the slightest bit of a distraction.

Victor was working at the piano, eyes dark and focused, and the old man who'd been dragged in to play violin after Victor had swore up and down to leave the show if the man wasn't his first chair was working his bow delicately across the strings.

Gabriel jolted as a hand lazily caressed the back of his neck. Meg laughed, smiling wickedly down at him. "Nervous, angel? Oh, don't be. Our sweet Sammy's _very_ talented. You'll get your ending, right after the Duke gets his."

Rage swelled him, and he jumped upright. Meg just laughed as he swung a fist at her, only to be stopped by Castiel who seemed to appear out of nowhere to grab his arm and shove him back down in his chair.

Meg smirked at him and sauntered away as Castiel watched him, largely impassive save for the burning anger in his eyes. Gabriel glowered up at him, unafraid, and Castiel turned away, stalking down the tiers.

"In Argentina," he called loudly, his voice ringing harshly around the room, "there is a dance. The Tango. It is danced in the brothels, and it tells a story." He turned sharply, long coat flicked off and away in one smooth motion. Dean sat up, and Balthazar looked away in to his drink. "The moral is this- never fall in love with one who sells themselves."

Gabriel gritted his teeth, fingers digging into the arms of his chair.

"Do you know why?" he demanded. "It always. Ends. BAD!" The words echoed hard around the room, and it all went still, everyone watching as Castiel paced the floor, loosening the blue tie he'd worn that day and letting it flutter to the ground.

But the story is more complex," Castiel continued, looking around at them all as he slid off his suit coat. "A prostitute!"

The spotlight flicked on, fixing on Meg, who looked around at them all before laughing and sauntering down the stairs to Castiel, taking his waiting hand. He waved a hand at Victor, who hit a chord and began a careful tinkling melody. Meg was twirled away, and Castiel turned to face her. Dean and Gabriel both rose in perfect time.

"And the man who falls in love with her," Castiel said quietly.

The music picked up, and the orchestra began to play. The steps were sharp and dramatic, Meg's dress swishing as her heeled foot came down hard. The two were circling each other, drawing steadily closer, each predatory.

"First," Castiel said, "there is…desire." They snapped close together, hips pressed tight as Meg looked up at him, eyes dark with pleasure. They moved in perfect sync, Dean's eyes glittering darkly as he watched the two. Gabriel began a slow walk along the edge of the dance floor, up by the booths he had sat in that first night.

"Then, passion," Castiel said, low and throaty, and the two began to dance, smooth and easy, with perfect spins and sharply pointed toes. As they did so, others rose, eyes intent on the woman in black before them. Castiel pulled her into his arms, eyes flicking from one to another, predatory and dangerous. A few stepped closer, and Castiel stepped back, grabbing Meg's hand. "Then, suspicion!"

Her eyes widened, smile now gone, and they walked in a circle, eyes fixed on each other.

"Jealousy!" Castiel snarled, pushing her away. "Anger! Betrayal!"

She stumbled backwards, clearly scared as Castiel stalked after her. Others were rising now, watching more closely.

"When love is for the highest bidder, there can be no trust!" Castiel caught her and pulled her in close, swaying from side to side as she gripped his arms, fearful. "And without trust… there is no love."

He spun her away again, letting her be caught by one of the other dancers.

"Jealousy," he said lowly, watching the dance begin again, "yes, jealousy. It will drive you mad!" The last word was shouted, and rang through the hall, making the crystals in the chandelier vibrate dangerously.

Gabriel closed his eyes, and Castiel's voice rumbled low and deep as he began to sing.

"Roxanne!"

Meg and the other began to dance, others stepping in closer as they spun and caught each other, Megs feet moving in sharp patterns. She was lifted and twirled, effortlessly moved back and forth like a puppet on carefully controlled strings.

"You don't have to put on that red light," Castiel sang, pacing as he watched the dancers. "Walk the streets for money…you don't care if it's wrong or if it is right- Roxanne!" Meg slumped in their grip, passed off to another in the mass of people that were flocking to her. Castiel looked both hurt and enraged, lips pulled back in a snarl as he watched the men slowly inch their hands down, down, down. "You don't have to wear that dress tonight. Roxanne!" They had crowded up behind her by then, others leaning down to kiss her neck and rub against her. Dean turned away from the floor, walking up the tiers in into the darkness behind the stage. Castiel watched them all, hands clenched to fists.

"You don't have to sell your body to the night."

Gabriel turned and walked towards the door, his feet slow on the floor. "His eyes upon your face," he whispered, as Meg fled the floor and others stepped out onto it, pairing up for the dance. "His hands upon your hand. His lips caress your skin… It's more than I can stand."

_Sam was kissed, poorly, as he walked through the door. The gloves had come off, he'd sat down to dinner, and he'd laughed about the writer's hopeless infatuation. And then they had stepped aside to the couch._

Behind him, Castiel was calling out, "Roxanne!" as the dance began again. Bodies swirled around him as he sang, heart desperate at get the words out.

"Why does my heart cry?"

"Roxanne!"

Gabriel pulled his coat in tighter. "Feelings I can't fight… You're free to leave me, but just…don't deceive me and please…" He pushed open the beautiful doors as Meg and Castiel swirled into each other's arms and then apart on the floor. "Believe me when I say, I love you!"

_And Lucifer was leaning over, a finger lazily tracing the vein on Sam's neck as he averted his eyes. "Should the show be as roaring a success as expected, you won't be a mere can-can dancer anymore," the Duke purred, and Sam found himself wishing he wasn't thing, wishing more than anything that he was back in Gabriel's apartment, safe in bed with him. "You'll be an actor…a star across the city and eventually the continent."_

_There was the sound of a box opening, and Sam turned to see the most exquisite necklace resting in a shell like case. He rose in a swish of velvet, pressing a hand to his chest in shock as Lucifer lifted it out of the case and fastened it around his neck. It was tall, and draped down perfectly over his neck, the most exquisite thing he had ever seen._

"_A gift," Lucifer purred, hands on his waist. "From this maharajah to his courtesan."_

_Sam touched the stones, trembling with the enormity of the gift. "And…and the ending?"_

_Lucifer chuckled, kissing his shoulder. "Let Gabriel keep his beloved fairy tale ending."_

Meg and Castiel watched each other silently from opposite sides of the room as Gabriel stepped out of the building, into lightly falling snow. The moon was bright and full, resting above the Gothic Tower, and as he slowly made his way out towards the gates. He wanted to go home.

As he crossed the courtyard, Sam watched him from the balcony. Lucifer stood behind him, pressing soft, tender kisses into his back. The silver and diamonds around his neck felt like a noose, choking him tight, and as he looked down at the tiny figure of Gabriel, alone and crossing the courtyard in the snow, he began singing quietly, in the hopes the music would reach him on the wind.

"Come what may…" he sang softly, letting his voice be stolen by the faint chill in the air. "I will love you… til my dying…day."

Gabriel's head dropped, and he continued to walk. Lucifer's hand squeezed his hip, sliding down the curve, and he breathed a broken, "No."

Lucifer's hand froze, and Sam all but panicked.

"No?" the man said softly, his voice dangerous.

"Not out here in the cold," Sam said, a little desperate. "Let's go inside, where it's warm. The bed-"

A hand on the back of his neck made him stop, and Lucifer stepped to the side, looking down to see Gabriel passing out of the corner of the courtyard. "I see," he said, his voice dark. "Our very own little sitar player, headed home."

Sam's heart hammered, and just as he opened his mouth he was shoved roughly back into the room. The unexpected push made him stumble, and he fell to the ground, his leg immediately setting up a deep ache as he clutched it, looking up with fear. "Mighty Duke-"

The words froze in his mouth as Lucifer loomed over him, eyes dark and glinting with fury. "Silence," the man snarled, and Sam was shoved even further down when Lucifer backhanded him, this time on the left. He thought numbly, blankly for a moment about how curious it was that now both cheeks were equal, only to squeal in pain when a boot connected with his stomach.

"You," Lucifer said, his voice shaking for the first time. "You made me believe that you _loved_ me!"

As Sam stumbled to his feet to flee, in the main hall Castiel and Meg were dancing together as the music picked up, the vibrant tones resonating in their skin. Gabriel was repeating his refrain, singing his pain out from the window of his flat. Little people with little lives in the Moulin Rouge were pressed together, a sea of black and white eroticism that had nothing to do with clients or ownership, just all the unsaid things coming out at once. And as Meg cried out, Castiel's grip a shade too tight as he bared his teeth, Sam was sobbing, jewels ripped from his neck and velvet torn from his skin.

_Why does my heart cry_

And then he was being thrown bodily on the bed, because Lucifer was terrifyingly strong and he was so weak these days, and there was nothing he could do. _Lie back and think of England_, he thought hysterically. A mother's advice he'd heard once from a girl who'd snuck in to find out how the other half lived. _Don't fight it. Lie still and let it be done and over with._ And so he covered his mouth to keep from crying.

Meg was tossed around a circle, helpless as Castiel watched, his expression flat and lifeless, until finally she was in his arms and looking up at him, desperate and scared.

_Feelings I can't fight!_

Gabriel screaming from his window, the music screaming from the hall, the screams of Lucifer as he stared down at the person who dared to choose the wrong path

All

Stopped.

Meg lay still in the circle, as though dead, having danced until she was gone.

Gabriel slumped in the window, exhausted and miserable past words.

And Lucifer fell, Dean looming up in his place with furious eyes and a golden candlestick.

oOo

Gabriel was pouring himself an exceptionally stiff drink when his door burst open, and Sam hobbled in with Dean carrying him to throw himself in Gabriel's arms. His face was a tear streaked mess, and as Gabriel caught him, he looked blankly at Dean, who just looked like the world may have been ending.

"I couldn't do it," Sam sobbed, clutching him. "I couldn't, Gabriel, I couldn't, I saw you and then he saw you and he hit me and I-I-I couldn't!"

"He hit you?" Gabriel demanded, pulling back to look at him. Sam sniffled, nodding as he was sat on the bed. Dean hurried to sit behind him, deft fingers undoing the knot of the corset to begin slowly loosening it. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Dean saved me," Sam said with a grateful smile. Dean just shook his head, clearly upset. "But Gabriel, you have to know."

"Know what, sweetheart?" he asked, reaching over to take his hands.

"I love you," Sam said earnestly, and Gabriel smiled broadly.

"I love you too, Sammy," he said gently, and Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation at the two as he began carefully letting the corset out, so as not to hurt Sam.

Sam's smile faded, and he looked up at him. "Gabriel, he knows. He knows and he's dangerous, and- and I can't do it anymore. I didn't want to pretend in there, and I don't know, I don't want to pretend anymore!" The last words came out in a rush as he got some of his air back.

"You don't have to pretend anymore," Gabriel promised, taking his hand. "We'll leave. We'll leave tonight, and get far, far away from here."

Dean's head jerked up.

"But the show," Sam said uncertainly.

"I don't care," Gabriel said firmly, taking his hands again and gently squeezing them. "I don't care about the show. We'll have each other, and that's enough."

"Yes," Sam breathed as he leaned their foreheads together, breath coming a little easier as Dean finished letting out the corset. "Yes, we'll run." He looked up at Dean with pleading eyes, and his brother smiled ruefully.

"Not sure how much I like this guy, but far be it from me to deny you your happiness," Dean said, ruffling Sam's hair. He batted his had away, smiling up at him in relief.

"Will you take him back to his dressing room to pack?" Gabriel asked, and Dean nodded. "No one must see you."

"Believe me, I understand," Dean said, helping Sam upright. The two leaned on each other, and Sam smiled when Gabriel stood on tip-toes to kiss him.

"Go pack," he said quietly. "I'll be waiting."

oOo

"It's the boy," Lucifer said calmly as he held a bag of ice to his head where he'd been hit. "He's very good with words, after all. He's poisoned Sam against me."

Crowley winced when the bag came away slightly bloody.

"I want him back, Crowley," the Duke continued, very calm. "Find him, and tell him that if he doesn't come to me once that curtain falls tonight, the boy will die. Warren here will handle it."

Crowley's eyes widened a little, taking in the bodyguard. "You'll kill him?"

"I'll kill him," Lucifer said coldly, in tones like winter. "The show will end my way, and if it does not, Sam's sweet little lover will have hell to pay."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Devil, Darkness, and Encroaching Death

Sam's dressing room was a mass of confusion as he fit his favorite, and most masculine clothes into his trunk. There wasn't much time, and Dean had gone up to the Elephant to go and fetch a few of his more sentimental belongings. The little bird in the cage chirped and sang at him, and he bit back tears as he shushed it, its bright yellow body a tiny spot of happiness in the darkness

"Pardon the intrusion," Crowley's voice said, low in the shadows, and Sam clenched a hand to his heart, stumbling back. Crowley watched him impassively as he recovered and continued packing.

"You're wasting your time," he said, his voice shaky as he folded a pair of comfortable slacks.

Crowley sighed heavily, sitting in one of the chairs. "You don't understand, Sam. Our dear, obsessed Duke is going to kill Gabriel."

Sam froze, turning to look at him with wide, worried eyes. Crowley sighed again, pulling out a small pen knife and cleaning his nails. "He's mad with jealousy. If you want Gabriel to see the dawn break the day after tomorrow, and continue seeing it after that, we will have the Duke's ending. And that night you will go to him, and you will sleep with him."

"You don't scare us," Sam whispered, his eyes going dark with anger.

"He's a powerful man, Sam, you know full well that he can come through on his threats."

Sam just shook his head, going back to packing. The bird chirped loudly, making Sam jump.

"What are you _doing_?" Crowley demanded at last, his patience frayed.

"I don't need you anymore!" Sam roared, slamming the lid on the trunk down and straightening to his full height. Crowley stepped back, startled at the change in him. It was rare for Sam to straighten up and square his shoulders, and he was cutting an intimidating form. "My whole life, you made me believe that I was only worth what someone would pay for me. I cleared my debt with you, but you tortured my brother and treat him like a slave. I sit there, and look at all that's going on, and you wonder why I want to leave? Gabriel loves me, Crowley. He _loves_ me." Sam stared down at him, full of power, and it was all he could do not to take a step back. "And that… That is worth everything." He flicked the locks closed on his trunk and picked it up, pulling the comb out of his hair and letting it fall down to his shoulders. Taking the birdcage off its hook, he nodded shortly. "Goodbye, Crowley."

He brushed past him, headed for the door, and Crowley closed his eyes.

"You're dying, Sam."

Sam froze, his hand on the knob. At his feet, the little canary went still and quiet.

"Is this a trick?" he asked quietly, but in his head he was thinking of the coughing, the blood, how often he felt weak lately.

"No, kid, it's not," Crowley said, and Sam's hand shook. It had been a long time since Crowley had called him kid. He would have been only 12, maybe. "The doctor told us."

"Bobby?" he whispered, and his head dropped, the suitcase falling to the floor. The sound it made when it hit resonated dully in his ears, as though it wasn't completely there. Gentle hands carefully led him to the couch, where he was helped to lay down, and blankets were pulled up over him. He'd slept on it so many times, even the first night he'd performed. The blanket was tucked around him, and as an afterthought, Crowley handed him a small, slightly dusty lion that had been left out of the suitcase simply because of lack of space. Sam let out a broken sob, clutching it tight as Crowley smoothed down his hair and left.

"I was a fool to believe," he whispered to Dean when he had stopped crying, still clutching the stuffed lion. "I was a fool to believe."

Dean's head dropped as he gently ran his fingers through his hair.

"It all ends today," Sam said, closing his eyes in exhaustion. "Yes. It all ends today."

oOo

"Send him away," Crowley said tiredly when Sam emerged from the dressing room. "You can save him that way."

"He'll fight for me," Sam replied, his voice flat.

"Unless he believes you don't love him," Crowley said, pouring himself a few fingers of scotch where he was sitting on the desk. He downed about half of it in one go, wincing a little. "You're an excellent actor, Sam. I know that you can do that."

"No," Sam breathed, shaking his head as tears pricked at his eyes. "No, please, I can't."

"Hurt him," Crowley said, setting his glass down as he stood up. "Hurt him to save him. I can think of no other way. The show must go on, Sam. That's the rule of the stage, you know that as well as anyone." He looked out the window, face growing somber. "We're creatures of the underworld, sweetheart. We can't afford to love."

Sam followed his gaze, seeing the small picture on the bookcase. A woman, rather severe looking, but with eyes that seemed to be gentle.

"Today's the day when dreaming ends," Sam whispered, and left the room.

Crowley poured himself another drink.

oOo

Dawn was breaking when Crowley left his office, walking slowly through the rush of people that were already at work on the stage. There were the final pieces to put in place, after all, and the miles of covered stage, the chairs, the banisters to be cleared off. The floors would be cleaned, the windows would be polished, and everything would be carefully put in place for the whole event to go off without a hitch.

He ran a finger along the railing, stepping out of the way as people rushed past with paintbrushes and harried expressions.

"Another hero," he muttered darkly, climbing the stairs. "Another mindless crime. Behind the curtain…in the pantomime."

He reached the top of the stairs and looked up at the seamstresses who were working on the bottom of the curtain, their swift needles flying in and out of the rich velvet. "On and on… Does anybody know what we are living for?"

They didn't look up, chiming in with perfect harmony as he walked towards the doors that would lead to the stage. "Whatever happens, we leave it all to chance. Another heartache…another failed romance. On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?"

He threw open the doors that led out onto the still covered stage, striding down the steps. "The show must go on! The show must go on. Outside, the dawn is breaking on the stage that holds our final destiny. The show must go on." He passed worker after worker, all hauling wood or hanging up signs or double checking everything. Down the tiers of the stage, out onto the floor, and he found himself bathed in glorious sunshine that came streaming through the glass doors in on the whole affair behind him.

oOo

Inside, Sam was carefully pulling down the veil of his hat. He'd dressed nicely for the day, simply. A grey wool suit, a black velvet vest, and the hat were all that made him that day. His bruises were carefully hidden away.

"Inside my heart is breaking," he whispered to the mirror. "My makeup may be flaking… but my smile, still stays on."

He turned and headed for the door, pulling on his black leather gloves as he did.

oOo

"The show must go on," people were singing as Sam strode through the masses. "The show must go on."

Down the stairs he went, emerging out to the edge of the stage just as the curtains swung shut behind him the check for the spot light flicked on. He looked out over the empty chairs, knowing that soon they would be filled. Crowley stood at the end of the aisle, a small figure in pure black.

"I'll top the bill, I'll earn the kill. I have to find the will to carry on…" he sang, stepping down the tiers and walking down the aisle. "Carry on with the show."

He stopped at Crowley's shoulder, and the two exchanged long, loaded glances. Crowley seemed tired, deflated almost, and Sam turned away with a deep breath, stepping out into the sunshine. Behind him, music swelled and spilled out of the doors.

_On with the show…_

_On with the show…_

_The show_

_Must_

_Go_

_On!_

And then he was stepping through the door, heart in his throat.

oOo

Gabriel had been watching out the window, looking for him, and when he heard the creak of the door he spun around. His relief at seeing Sam faltered when he saw the expression on the man's face.

"Sweetheart? Sam, what's wrong?"

"I'm staying with the Duke," Sam said, and Gabriel felt his heart stop. Suddenly, there was no air in the room, and the world had stopped turning. There was a moment of perfect stillness, and then it all came rushing back. Along with it came disbelief, but Sam was still talking. "After I left, the Duke came to see me. He offered me everything I've ever dreamed of on a silver platter, Gabriel. It was the world, and it could be mine. There was just one condition."

Gabriel's heart plunged.

"I can never see you again."

The room seemed to be spinning, and he grabbed the window trim for stability. "What's going on, Sam? What do you mean?"

Sam looked at him with expressionless eyes. "You know what I am, Gabriel."

He stumbled forward, shocked. "What about last night?"

"Last night?" Sam scoffed. "Gabriel. You don't understand, this is my home. You can leave whenever you'd like, but this is my home. The Moulin Rouge is where I belong, and always have belonged. I can see that now."

"No," Gabriel said numbly, walking over to stand in front of him. He'd never felt so tiny around Sam before, despite being so much smaller. Sam had a way of making them seem like they were on the same plane, but now he may as well have been the stars and Gabriel an ant. "That can't be it, there's something you're not telling me. Something's wrong, something- tell me what it is. Tell me the truth, Sam."

Sam said nothing, simply watching him. Gabriel grabbed his arm, desperation roaring in him. "Tell me the truth!"

"The truth?" Sam pulled his arm away, fixing the sleeve. He fixed Gabriel with a tired stare. "Here's the truth, Gabriel. I'm the Hindi courtesan, and I make the real choice. I choose the maharajah. This is how the story really ends."

And with that, he walked away down the stairs. Outside, thunder crackled and snapped as a monstrous storm rolled in. Gabriel crashed to the floor, looking numbly after Sam as he descended back to the outside.

Everything was a bit of a blur after that. He lost time as the rain pounded the streets outside, and only came to his senses when he was being dragged away from the doors of the Moulin Rouge screaming Sam's name. Fists connected with his face, and boots connected with his ribs. He gasped and groaned in pain as he was beaten ruthlessly, and when they finally let him collapse in the mud it was a welcome relief.

Hands lifted him some undetermined amount of time later, and carried him up to his room where he was stripped of his sopping wet clothes and put into new ones before being rolled into bed to ward off the chill. He stared with empty eyes out at them all, not really seeing, just taking everything in. It was hours later that he sat up, draping the blanket over his legs and staring listlessly at the sky outside. Balthazar was puttering around the room, straightening things up and moving them this way and that to see how they caught the light, but when he saw that Gabriel was back to awareness he came and sat at his side.

"Gabriel," he said gently, his hands fidgeting with their normal restlessness in his lap. "Things aren't always what they seem."

"Things are exactly what they seem," Gabriel said flatly, watching the rain.

"Sam, you may see me only as a drunken, vice-filled idiot," Balthazar said, smiling a little, "whose friends are only whores and their pimps, but I do know a few things. I know art, and love, and music, because my soul is full of it, longs for it, tainted and dirty as I may be. He loves you, Gabriel. Any fool can see that. He does love you."

"Go away," Gabriel said through gritted teeth, heart aching. Balthazar recoiled a little.

"Gabriel-"

"Go away!" he roared, and Balthazar shrank back, slowly rising to leave him to mourn.

oOo

_I wanted to shut out what Balthazar had said to me. But he had filled me with doubt. I had to know, and there was only one way to be sure. So I found myself walking up to the doors of the Moulin Rouge one last time._


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: The Truth

Nighttime fell on Paris, and the lights of the Moulin Rouge went on inside and out. A man walked to the center of the stage, turban on his head, and the audience gasped as the music burst, filling the room with swells of sound.

"He is mine!" the turbaned Crowley roared, and the audience shrieked and applauded. The curtains went up, red and gold gleaming in the light, and the opening scene began. Balthazar was dressed as the sitar, and the gleaming, glittering costumes shone with the electric lights that were beaming down at them. The crowd gasped and oohed as they took in the bright costumes and the dramatic golden arches everywhere. Red drapes edged in gold hung from the ceiling, and a blue painted Dean was hoisted up, grinning down at them all. Feathers, gold, and jewels gleamed all over the place, a dazzling showcase.

"I only speak the truth! I only speak the truth!" Balthazar sang, and the musical began. The dancers were perfection incarnate, intricate moves in their shining costumes with bright, brilliant gold covering them as they danced. Meg was perfect as she sang in Hindi that had been painstakingly written out for her, her pantaloons a bright white as she took the center of the stage for a moment. The stage was a sea of activity, with the sitar player (a costumed Castiel looking magnificent in white) being hit in time as Crowley watched the whole affair.

And then there was a sharp hiss of steam, the lights turned blue, and the crowd roared as the dancers dropped, arms directed to the center of the stage where Sam began to emerge, glorious in dark, flowing silks that exposed his legs, and a tight, short vest that showed off his muscle. In the front row, sitting next to a massive bouquet of red roses, Lucifer licked his lips in appreciation. Golden ornaments jingled in his hair, gleaming in the pale lights. He opened his mouth, and his clear, sweet voice echoed through the hall. The music increased as he stepped off the platform, surrounded by the male dancers, and his voice choked.

_No_, he thought furiously, _no no no, you aren't going to give out on me now. _He swallowed hard, jerked his head up, and smiled. The music carried on, and as he sauntered to the middle of the stage, everyone roared with approval.

_Here we go_.

He danced, slow and sensual, and let the words roll out of him as the dancers surrounded him, flashing and glittering in the low lights. "Kiss…hand…diamonds…best friend…Kiss…grand… diamonds…best friend." He was grabbed and twirled around, the long silks floating and sparkling with the tiny sparkles that had been sewn into them. "Men… cold…girls…old…" he was twisting and spun, and dropped to the floor, one long leg up in the air as he dropped down. "And we all lose our charms…in the end."

He stood, and was grabbed and hoisted up by the dancers, hands out to balance as he sang. "Diamonds are a, diamonds are a, diamonds are a!" The chorus chimed in, matching with him as he was set down and walked forward again. "Diamonds are a, diamonds are a, diamonds are a…"

He was grabbed and lifted up, carried up the stairs by willing hands as Dean dropped back down to drape and fasten a gorgeous necklace at his throat. The two locked eyes for a moment, and his hand gently squeezed the back of Sam's neck in reassurance. Lifted up once more and smoothly set back on the floor, he finished, looking directly at Lucifer as he sang. "Girls… best… friend."

The music slowed and turned quiet, and Crowley slid up beside him, pushing him to his knees and draping a hand on his head once he was all but sprawled at his feet. Looking over the crowd, he purred, "He is mine."

The music faded away, and everyone jumped to their feet, applauding loudly. At the front, Lucifer applauded politely.

"He is mine," he whispered, and his eyes glittered, triumph etched on his face.

oOo

As Sam sang the opening number, Gabriel had been quietly slipping in through a window, his pockets bulging. It had taken some careful maneuvering, but he made it inside, closing the window behind him. Looking around, he froze when he saw Warren at the end of the hall, quietly smoking a cigar and looking like he desperately wanted to bash a head in, if only to relieve the monotony.

Warren's cigar flared, and as he looked down it, he caught sight of the shadowed Gabriel down the walkway. Gabriel bolted into the warren of the backstage, and vanished.

oOo

"I just don't understand," Balthazar grumbled as he and Castiel made their way up the steep steps towards the stage. They were nearing the end of the production, and he was getting in place for his final lines. Beyond, on the stage, Crowley was giving his last monologue of the night. "I mean, I know that Sam loves him, any _idiot_ could see that." He took a swig from the bottle in his hand, wincing at the burn.

"This is simple," Castiel growled, eyes rolling. "One is a Duke, and the oth–"

Narcolepsy, it must be said, is not a disease with very nice timing. As Balthazar continued up the stairs, Castiel passed out and rolled down them, falling down the trap door at the bottom just as Gabriel was crawling along underneath the floorboards.

A few minutes later, he had taken the man's coat, and went off in search of Sam, climbing through the rungs and bars of the backstage.

Balthazar was happily watching the performance from where he was standing on the swing that would soon be lifting him up high above it all. Crowley, resplendent in brilliant white and gold, was waving around a sword. It was magnificent to behold the man in his element, and not for the first time, Balthazar wondered how such an excellent actor had ended up as the owner and operator of a dance hall.

"I raise high my ceremonial wedding sword, and welcome my loyal subjects to join with us in celebration!" He waved the sword about, pointing at the door before sliding off stage to confer with someone else and let the others take the stage for their lines.

"What a magnificent performance," Balthazar mused with a happy sigh. He looked down at the stage, but was surprised when he saw Warren appear at Crowley's side, grabbing his arm with what looked like a cruelly tight grip. Crowley rounded on the man, clearly angry, and Balthazar sucked in a breath. An angry Crowley was horrifying to behold.

"The boy is here," Warren hissed, and the anger disappeared, replaced by an emotion that Balthazar wasn't certain Crowley had ever felt before. Fear.

"I told Sam that if he showed he'd be killed!" Crowley said, his voice wavering a little. To see the man looking so small for once, so unnerved and anxious, left a bad taste in Balthazar's mouth. Crowley was legendary, terrifying. If something was scaring him, it must be truly horrible.

"He very soon will be," Warren purred, and pushed away, heading back deeper behind the stage. Balthazar gasped as Crowley stumbled, clutching a railing as he went pale under his stage paint.

"Killed," he whispered, watching the man compose himself. "So that's it. That's why Sam was pushing him away, he was trying to save his life!" He dropped the bottle he'd been holding, hands shaking. "Gabriel!" he called, helplessly looking around. "Gabriel!" He shrieked as the swing he stood on was suddenly jerked up, taking him above it all. He clutched the ropes, heart in his throat. "Oh god, this is high up!"

oOo

Sam's hands were faintly pink from scrubbing off all the blood he'd coughed up. Bobby was forcing water down his throat, coaxing him to swallow it as he was put into his next costume. It was honestly quite simple, very elegant, and rather masculine for once. Wide white pantaloons trimmed with gold encased his legs, golden slippers had been put on his feet, and a long vest that trailed down to the floor in a train in simple white with golden trim around the collar made up the whole affair, with the necklace from the start of the show and some truly magnificent hairpieces. He didn't even wear any rings or bracelets, merely the simple clothes, and as he took a deep breath, cleaning his hands again, the room went still. He looked up in the mirrors, and frozen when he saw Gabriel standing there, his eyes dark and cold.

"I've come to pay my bill," the man said, and Sam turned to look at him, aware that some leftover tears were lingering on his cheekbones.

"You shouldn't be here, Gabriel," Sam said quietly, heart hammering in his chest as he swept towards the door. "Leave."

As Balthazar fretted in the rafters, Sam hurried away, Gabriel close behind. They wove through the tangled web of sets, people in and out of costume, and others dashing away to fix whatever problems had happened to keep them from happening again. Gabriel grabbed Sam's arm in a vice grip, yanking to make him turn.

"You made me believe I loved you," Gabriel said, hard and intent. "I should pay you, isn't that how this works?"

"Please," Sam whispered brokenly, horrified at hearing Lucifer's words in Gabriel's mouth.

"We need him on the stage!" Bobby roared from somewhere behind them, and Sam hurried to turn, rushing up the stairs towards the stage. Gabriel followed, a fistful of money in his hand.

"You did your job very well," he said conversationally, and Sam felt a sob building in his throat. Onstage, Crowley was waving and calling out his lines.

"_Jealousy has driven the sitar player into hiding!_"

"I should pay you, like everyone else does!" Gabriel insisted, shoving the franc's at him.

"Don't, Gabriel, there's no point," Sam pleaded, fleeing up the stairs as the music started. "Please, go away."

Beyond them, music started up and Sam desperately fled up the stairs, followed by Gabriel once more. Others hurried after them, trying to get Gabriel away from Sam. They reached the top of the stage, one of the stagehands jumping down to grab Gabriel and pull him away, but he was simply tossed to the side. Sam was trying to get away, but gasped in horror. Warren had appeared on the other end, a gun in his hand. Sam turned, shielding Gabriel with his body.

"Why won't you let me pay you?" Gabriel demanded, the franc's in his hands shaking.

"Please, Gabriel," Sam begged, tears streaming down his face as he shook.

"_Open the doors!"_

"If you don't love me and it wasn't real, why shouldn't I pay you?" Gabriel asked, a twisted smile on his face. Sam looked behind him, horrified to see Warren creeping up, the gun in his hands.

"_Opennn the doors!"_

Above the chaos Balthazar was screaming for Gabriel's attention, but the man wasn't paying attention. Crowley kept calling for the doors to open, hands waving larger and larger as he looked at the panicked stage hands. And Warren crept closer and closer, until he was running towards them. The air was hot and full of sounds, baffling confusion as people yelled and music played, a cacophony of terror in Sam's ears.

"Let me pay!" Gabriel roared, shoving the money in his face. "Let me pay, let me pay!"

Sam sobbed, trying to pull him off and away, but he couldn't get free, held tight by Gabriel's hands. He thought faintly of how terrible it was- the hands that once held him safe would be the reason he died.

And then.

The doors opened.

Warren jerked back from where his gun had been all but next to Gabriel's head, and the spotlight on the door burned their eyes harshly. Sam squinted out at the audience, who seemed confused. Crowley looked like he was about to have a heart attack, and in the front row, Lucifer's face had curled into an enraged snarl. Gabriel looked around, confused and still upset. The dancers all looked on in horror, terrified. Even Meg looked like she wanted to run up to save him, and from the side, Dean made an aborted movement, clearly desperate to come to Sam's rescue but held back by two of the others. Crowley, after a moments clear anxious deliberation, stepped in to save the day.

"Ah ha!" he said, looking out at them all. Lucifer looked like he was ready to slice throats. "I am not fooled! Though he has adopted a disguise, I know this man. My eyes are keen and do not lie!"

The audience stared blankly.

"It is the penniless sitar player!" Crowley said, looking out at them all encouraging. A loud, "Ohhhhh," of understanding echoed back to him. "Driven mad by jealousy!" The audience let loose a sadder noise.

Gabriel rose, yanking Sam up with him. Together they walked down the steps, only for Sam to stumble and fall, weak from the fear. He tried to bite back the coughing, but couldn't help it, a few drops of blood falling to the stage floor as he struggled to breathe. The audience gasped as Gabriel stepped back, looking down at him with harsh contempt.

"This man is yours now," he said, looking in Crowley's direction but not making eye contact. The francs were tossed to the floor at Sam's head, and he recoiled from them. "I have paid my whore."

Sam bit his lip, looking helplessly up at Gabriel as he desperately wished he could explain it all.

"I owe you _nothing_," Gabriel said, and for the first time, there was a tremor in his voice. Sam desperately wanted to cry. "And you are nothing to me." His voice was definitely shaking, and a few tears spilled out when he worked out the next line. "Thank you for curing me of my ri-ridiculous obsession with _love_."

He turned and walked away, his coat swishing as he walked away. Above them all, watching in horror, Balthazar whispered, "I can't remember my line."

"This sitar player doesn't love you," Crowley roared, waving his sword after Gabriel, who had continued towards the door without even a glance at Lucifer. "See, he flees our kingdom!" Crowley hurried up to bend down at Sam's side, a gentle hand touching his shoulder. "It's for the best," Crowley whispered, and Sam shook his head, mouthing _no _at him. "You know how it is, Sam. The show must go on, that's the rule." Sam bit back a sob, letting himself be helped up onto his shaking legs. Crowley returned to his stage presence, waving his hand grandly as the doors opened and Dean, painted blue and covered in gold and gems stepped out. "And now, my dear, let us raise our voices to the heavens, so that we may bind you to me!"

The music started back up as Gabriel was sliding the jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. And that was when Balthazar remembered. "That's it!" He reached over to try and grab a pulley to let himself down, only to fall and have to grab a beam for support. It cracked and broke, leaving him hanging fairly high above the stage. Taking a deep breath, he screwed his eyes shut and roared, "_The greatest gift you'll ever learn, is just to love, and be loved, in return!_"

The crowd gasped, and Sam's head came up. Dean looked at him, and nodded shortly, smiling when Sam turned around to look at Gabriel, who had frozen just feet from the door.

It may as well have been a mile, for as far away as he was, but for once in his life Sam knew without a shadow of a doubt what to do to make things right.

"Never knew…I could feel…like this," he sang softly, almost hesitant. Below him, Victor beamed, waving at the musician's to change their music. "Like I'd never seen the sky… before." The music started, slow and sweet, and Sam licked his lips, courage building when Gabriel stepped no further. "Want to vanish, inside your kiss. Each day I'm loving you more and more. Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing?" He stepped forward, to the edge of the main stage, arms held out as he sang, "Come back to me, and forgive everything!" He held the note until his voice caught, making him gasp for air. Gabriel half turned, and Sam could see the faint, hopeful smile on his face. He straightened back up, singing directly to him now. "Season's may change…winter to spring." His voice caught again, and he smiled. "I love you."

The room gasped, and his smile grew.

"Til the end…of…time."

The room went still, the lights of the giant heart set above Sam flashing and glowing as he stood there, the white and gold of the costume gleaming.

"Come…what…may…"

A rumble of surprise echoed through the room, and every head in the audience turned to look at Gabriel, who stood there staring up at Sam. The words had been soft and small, but they were there, and Sam couldn't help but smile.

"Come what may." The words were louder now, and Gabriel took a hesitant step towards him. "Come what may." Louder still, and he began walking. "Come what may!" He was striding up, eyes bright with joy. "I will love you!"

"I will love you," Sam echoed back, walking down to the lower tier to him.

"Until my dying day!" They sang together, Gabriel stepping up to take his hand. "Come what may! Come what may."

The music soared and then paused, leaving the two with their heads pressed together, eyes closed as they held each other tight, relishing simply being together. They didn't see Lucifer quietly hand signaling to Warren to shoot them from where he was hidden behind the curtains. But Balthazar did.

"I will love you," the two sang together, close and swaying a little. "Until my dying…"

"No!" Balthazar screamed, and grabbed a rope, swinging in to the middle of the stage, the gun clattering in the middle of the dancers as he bowled Warren out of the way. The dancers all screamed and then relaxed when they realized who it was. Balthazar scrambled to his feet, looking desperately at the couple, who were clutching each other. "They're trying to kill you!"

"Shut up!" Crowley snapped, even as the crowd laughed, apparently thinking this to be the height of humor.

"He has a gun!" Balthazar protested, terrified, even as Ruby quietly slipped away from them all.

"Guards, sieze them!" Crowley ordered, just as none other than _Rufus_ jumped out with a sitar and yelled, "Vive la vie boheme!"

The pyrotechnic's went off, and people screamed and jolted around, everyone in a frenzy as Sam and Gabriel stood there, staring blankly at the chaos. Warren took the opportunity to go for his gun, only to be kicked in the face by Meg, who growled, "Oh no you don't," and stepped hard on his foot. The audience laughed, finding it all hysterical, and then the doors at the top of the stage burst open, revealing Castiel, who'd been stripped down to his undershirt, suspenders, and pants. Everyone paused.

"No problems," Castiel growled, looking out intently over them all. "Go back to work."

And that was it.

Everybody snapped back to attention for the final number, Balthazar jumping to the front. Lucifer glared at them all, but his attentions were distracted when he realized that the gun was sitting on the lowest tier of the stage, slightly off center.

"No matter what you say," Balthazar sang, peering out over the crowd and fixing his eyes on a startled Lucifer, "the show is ending our way!"

"Come on and stand your ground!" Everybody sang, Rufus bashing Warren over the head with the sitar as the starry eyed couple leaned together and Victor bounded up to the front of the stage. "For Freedom! Beauty, truth and Love!"

Warren was making his way through them all as they danced, Sam singing, "One day I'll fly away!" as Gabriel sang, "My gift is my song!"

The sight was something glorious to behold, everyone in the white costumes lit up colorfully and gleaming under the lights as they sang, weaving in and out of each other in the intricate steps they had learned. The place was a masterpiece of color and light. Behind them all, the "Children of the Revolution" theme played, and the dancers swarmed them, a glorious spectacle in red, blue, and purple. Ruby had been watching him, and as he reached for the gun, she grabbed one of the sandbags. One of the sparklers went off, she dropped the sandbag, and as he took aim he was promptly knocked out. Lucifer jumped up in a rage, heading towards the door as Sam and Gabriel were lifted up, hands joined as they were carried around, the music ringing and roaring around the room.

The gun clattered to the floor behind him, and he stopped.

Rose petals, red and white, were released over them, and the audience oohed and ahhed as Lucifer grabbed up the gun, cocking it and rushing towards the stage.

"My way!" he roared, finally broken. "My way! My-"

Crowley loomed up, and knocked him off his feet with one punch. The gun went flying, broke a window, and was reportedly found near the Eiffel tower, miles away, the following week.

It was all perfect, and with one final chord, the curtains swept closed.

The audience was on its feet, cheering and roaring its approval as behind the curtain everybody hugged and laughed, giddy with relief. The rose petals were still falling, and Sam looked up at them, a smile on his face as he took them in. It was like a perfect rain, sweet and soft against his skin, and as the Stage Manager called for everyone to ready for curtain call, he took Gabriel's hand, letting himself be pulled to the center of the stage. Everything was perfect. The audience he'd always dreamed of was there, Meg and Dean were hugging each other and laughing giddily as Castiel grinned at them both and Victor and Balthazar attempted a lopsided waltz, Balthazar's legs trapped in the sitar costume.

Gabriel was laughing, and that's when he felt it. The choking, complete inability to breathe taking over at last. He tipped his head back, looking up at the falling petals before gasping for breath.

"Sam?" Gabriel caught him, helping him down as he coughed, helpless. "Sam, sweetheart, please, what's wrong?" Sam grasped his shoulder, trying to steady himself as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "Sam? Sammy? What's wrong, tell me what's wrong! Sam!" The coughing grew worse, and the blood burbled out, a bubble popping and staining Sam's fair skin. "Oh, god. Someone get a doctor!"

The stage had grown quiet, and even as someone went for Bobby, the stillness was telling.

"I'm sorry, Gabriel," Sam whispered, taking Gabriel's hand. "I'm dying."

"No, you're not," Gabriel said insistently, hand shaking as he gathered Sam to him. "It's alright, it's just…"

"I'm so sorry," Sam whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek.

"No," Gabriel sobbed, pulling him in close. "No, no, you're going to be fine, Sammy. You're going to be just fine. I know you're going to be all right, okay, so you don't get-get to say things like that."

Sam leaned into him, eyes closing as his chest heaved. "I'm so cold, Gabe," he whispered, and Gabriel's shoulders shook. He knew how much Sam hated being cold. Children from the streets appreciated heat so much more, he hated the cold. "Will you hold me?"

"Of course," Gabriel whispered, curling so that Sam was up on his chest, his heavy body growing more still by the minute. "I love you," he whispered, voice choked. "I love you so much, Sammy, please don't leave me."

"You have to go on," Sam whispered, reaching up a weak hand to cup his cheek. "You have to go on, promise me."

"I can't go on without you," he whispered, rocking them together as fat tears dripped down his cheeks.

Sam flicked his cheek before his hand fell. "You have so much to give, Gabriel," Sam said, his voice shaky. His hair was in his face, and Gabriel tenderly pushed it out of the way, his hands shaking. "Tell our story. Promise me. Promise me!"

"I promise," Gabriel whispered, taking his hand and kissing his fingers, barely holding back his sobs.

Sam smiled though the tears, squeezing gently. "That way… I'll always be with you." He let out a slow breath, and began singing, just loud enough for Gabriel to hear. "Come…what may…I will love you…"

And his hand went limp.

Gabriel let loose a wail that would echo in the ears of all who heard it for the rest of their lives. Dean collapsed to the side, face in his hands as the rest stood around, the rose petals on the ground crushed and broken as Gabriel sobbed, rocking the white-clad body in his arms, Sam's hand draping down onto the flowers. The rest looked down, quietly letting Gabriel mourn before they dared do anything. The moment was theirs and theirs alone.

Beyond the red curtains, the audience continued to applaud, a final salute to a dead man, though they had yet to know it. Crowley fell to the floor, staring helplessly at the two on the stage, and hats were slowly, carefully removed.

The show went on.


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue

Paris, Montmartre, 1901, Late Spring

_Days turned into weeks, and weeks to months. And then, one not so special day, I sat down at my typewriter and began to write our story. A story about a time, about a place, and about the people who made it all what it was. But above all, this is a story about love. And that is a story that will live forever._

_The End._

The final _ding_ of the typewriter was soft on his ears as he pulled the last page out and set it to the side. He had gathered them all up into a neat stack, and as he gently tapped them on the desk to even them out, he wondered vaguely if he was supposed to feel differently. He didn't feel much differently.

But then, he considered, maybe it would take time.

Gabriel stood and found a folder for the manuscript, placing a clean sheet over the front page. He placed the folder in his briefcase and looked about the room. The place was a mess, and it was only thanks to the breeze that was coming into the room that there was any way for him to breathe. It reeked of a place gone too long without airing, and he suddenly felt a great, ferocious urge to air the place out. He set the briefcase on his bed and threw open the windows, gasping in relief as the fresh gust of air washed over him. The scent of rain and chestnuts hit him like a wave, as beyond, the rains of Spring were passing away from Paris. The sun had just come out, and he felt himself smile for the first time in months.

Turning around, he surveyed the room.

"This," he announced, "will not do."

oOo

The landlady was a little shocked when he came bounding down the stairs, four days of beard bristling, and asked with more enthusiasm than he'd shown since he was with Sam if he could have a bucket and some rags. She gave him a mop instead, and told him that if he was going to clean, he could clear out the apartment next to him as well. She would even knock off a week's rent if he did so. He agreed wholeheartedly, and set to work.

Away went the dirt of the floors and the grime on the walls. The sheets were stripped from the bed and hung out the window to air, and bottles that had accumulated tossed out in the trash. The kitchen was cleaned out, the walls were scrubbed until they gleamed, and he even polished the bedposts. By the time he was done, the apartment was better than it had been when he arrived, and he looked around, extremely satisfied. The warm breeze made the soft curtains billow, and his heart swelled a little as he looked out on Paris.

Maybe he was getting better.

oOo

The next day he walked up the long and winding streets, checking the paper he clutched in his hand every once in a while. He wasn't certain that Castiel would even still be there, but he had to check, and at last, he found the place. It was only a little way away from Sacre Couer, a tiny, white, two story house squeezed in between two of the newly constructed four story buildings now there. There was a balcony overflowing with plants, and as he looked up, he was unsurprised to see Dean looking down at him, smoke drifting from the cigarette he held in his fingers. The two looked at each other for a long time before Dean called down, "I'll let you in."

Gabriel nodded, and let himself into the house. It had been divided into three or four different apartments, it seemed, and he climbed to the top and knocked. Dean opened the door after a moment's hesitation, and let him inside.

The place was airy, comfortable, and smelled wonderful. There were two bedrooms, it seemed, and a small bathroom off of the big main room, which housed a sitting area with beautiful furniture and a low coffee table, and a round dining table near the little kitchen. On the stove sat a strangely flat pie, from which the smell of baked apples was wafting.

"What's that?"

"It's an American pie," Dean explained. "They're deserts, not dinner." He walked over to peer at it. "And I think this one finally turned out right. I've been hoping it would, Castiel's been wanting to try them."

"Ah," was all Gabriel said, and an awkward silence fell as the two looked helplessly at each other. There was so much history between the two of them, neither of them knew where to start. Eventually Dean waved helplessly towards the balcony.

"Cigarette?"

"God, yes."

They ended up leaning on the railing together, smoking quietly as people passed below them.

"Cas is at work," Dean said quietly. "He works up at the Basilica now. Grounds keeping. I don't know if I've ever seen him so happy. He says he likes it- nice and simple. Keeps his head clear and his hands away from the Absinthe."

"Good," Gabriel said, nodding. The sun was starting its slow descent to the horizon, and the tower was shining bright in the distance. He took a long drag, letting the smoke curl out of his mouth like he was some ancient Oriental dragon, sitting on the balcony and watching the people below with a sort of disconnected fascination. "I finally wrote the book."

Dean went still beside him, cigarette halfway to his lips. Smoke curled from the end. "That so?"

"Yes."

He nodded, and quietly put the cigarette out. Gabriel followed suit, and quietly handed over the briefcase.

Dean took it and opened it, taking out the manuscript and sitting in one of the low slung chairs on the balcony. Gabriel sat in the other, staring pensively out at the city through the wrought iron rails. The sun slowly dipped further and further down in the sky, until Dean was halfway done and had only cried twice.

Then came the coughing.

His skin crawled at the sound. He'd heard it too many times from Sam, from the boy who'd lived in the room next to his and slowly, slowly died of it. It was the consumption cough, and Dean stood up, putting the manuscript on the little table beside him. Rising, he went into the apartment, into one of the bedrooms, and he heard quiet voices. He knew he shouldn't, but he found himself rising to go and see who was there.

He felt his blood turn to ice when he saw who Dean was bent over.

Meg lay in the bed, her fragile body shaking as she coughed up blood. Her hair had been sliced away, close to her head, and her arms were skin and bone. She was paper thin, her face drawn tight around the skull, and Castiel's stomach churned a little at the sight of her. Dean was gently rubbing her back, talking quietly to her as she hacked and coughed, tiny body shaking with the onslaught. When it was finally done, the horrible sounds receding to mostly silence, she flopped back, shaking. She was obviously exhausted, and her breathing was ragged when she calmed down. Dean stayed with her until she was asleep again, and then rejoined Gabriel.

"When the Moulin Rouge was shut down, Meg was very nearly bought by Lucifer," Dean said quietly. "I nearly went to Michael, his brother. He's a Captain, and by all accounts very fond of using pain on his mistresses and whores. But Castiel outbid them both for our contracts."

Gabriel's eyes were fixed on the woman, and he felt once again the unspeakable horror of the disease that was permeating the city. "That was…good of him to do."

"He felt he owed us something better," Dean said, still quiet as he watched Meg through the door. "He couldn't let us go knowing that we'd be killed like some of the others. No one looks for a whore when they vanish."

The matter of fact way he said it made Gabriel want to cry and shake him, say, _"No, no, I watched when they vanished from the streets and I feared they were swallowed whole. I remember their names and their faces and the way they had all the hope sucked out of them. I remember _you."

Dean brushed past him, and went back to his reading.

Gabriel stole another cigarette, and went through two more before he was lighting up the lamps in the house so Dean could keep reading.

Eventually a key turned in the lock, and Castiel walked in. Gabriel stood up, looking at his old friend. There was a long pause as the two looked at each other. Castiel looked better than he had when they had worked together- his skin was darker now, tanned, and lean muscles were hidden under a slightly stained shirt. He wore a long tan coat over the affair, and as they looked at each other, he was struck by how much brighter his eyes were.

After a good minute, Castiel turned away. "Have you told him yet?" he asked in his familiar low growl.

"No," Dean said, cigarette dangling from his fingers as he watched Castiel with slightly wary eyes.

"Oh." Castiel placed a long stemmed rose in a vase and set it on the counter. His face was troubled when he turned back. "Balthazar's dead."

Gabriel couldn't say he was shocked, but the words hurt all the same. He sat back down, quiet. "How?"

"Couldn't get away from the absinthe and the women. He drank himself to death," Castiel said bluntly. "Have you had dinner yet?"

"No, I came over around 3 o'clock."

A thin, reedy voice from the bedroom called, "That you, Clarence?"

Castiel immediately left them and went to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Dean watched him go with tired eyes, and Gabriel watched as his shoulders slumped.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No," Dean said flatly, picking the papers back up to continue and taking a long, hard drag on his cigarette. Gabriel decided not to push the matter and kept staring out towards the sunset.

After a while, Castiel left the bedroom and closed the door, his face as unreadable as ever. Dean was obviously pretending that he wasn't aware of him, suddenly focusing very intently on the pages, but Castiel merely shook his head and walked over to gently press a kiss to the top of his head. Dean slumped, giving up and looking up at him pleadingly. Castiel smiled, kissing him with a sweetness that made Gabriel's heart ache, and walked away to the kitchen area.

Dean watched him go with the shadow of a smile before looking back at the manuscript. "I made you a pie. It's in the oven."

Castiel brightened, and looked in at it. "How curiously flat," he said, fascinated. Gabriel watched, struck by the easy domesticity as he took it out, smiling at the delicate designs Dean had made on the top before going and fetching things from the cupboards to begin work on dinner.

"You needn't do that," Dean called absently. "I can make dinner if you want to rest."

"Once in a great while I like to cook," Castiel said defensively. "And it was an easy day today, there's no reason for me not to."

Dean looked up, only to pause. "Gabriel? You okay?"

Gabriel blinked, looking over at him in confusion.

"You're crying," Dean said, and he reached up to touch his face, surprised when he felt tears there.

"Oh," he said blankly. "So I am."

He wiped his tears away, and lit his cigarette again with shaking fingers. Dean looked at him with a bit of sympathy before going back to his reading. Gabriel closed his eyes, exhaling quietly as he made himself relax back into his chair.

There was a dull _thump_, and his eyes snapped back open to see that Castiel had passed out on the floor.

There was a long pause, and Dean snorted. "_Narcolepsy_, I ask you," he muttered, standing up to drag the man onto the more comfortable rug to wait for it to wear off. Gabriel couldn't help but smile at that, and tried not to chuckle as he listened to Dean muttering in annoyance.

They ate soup for dinner, a sweet kind with meat in it, and when all was done and he'd obediently tried the apple pie (very sweet, very odd, but very good), he went in to see Meg.

It was worse than he'd anticipated. She was frail, her skin delicate and clinging to her bones. Holding her hand was like taking a skeleton's hand.

"It was only fair," she whispered, her once velvety voice a hoarse rasp from the abuse her throat had taken. "I fucked it up for you big time. He thought that Sam would choose him, that he'd get bored with you. I told him he was wrong. And you both paid. And so now I pay the same way."

"I'm sorry that everything went down the way it did," Gabriel said softly. "And that I just vanished. I should have done something."

Meg gave a rattly laugh. "What could you do? It's called consumption for a reason. It consumes you."

Gabriel lowered his head, gently squeezing her hand.

"Look out for them," she said quietly. "If you think you need to make it up to them. Protect them from themselves. Dean doesn't know his head sometimes, too wrapped up in the past, and Castiel would stray to the bottle if left alone. Look after my boys, Gabriel."

"I will," he said quietly, and kissed her forehead before leaving to let her sleep.

oOo

He broke into the Moulin Rouge that night.

He walked the old hallways, lifted old pieces of furniture. The place was largely untouched, save for the rats that had infested the place. He went through Sam's dressing room, unsurprised when he saw that it had been looted.

Lucifer was not the kind to let go of an obsession.

He went up to the elephant, ignoring the creaks and groans of the joints, and sat on the dusty bed to stare at the one thing that had been left untouched.

On a dress stand, the red dress-coat had been lovingly placed, and on the neck of the stand, sat the great necklace, silver and diamond, gleaming in the lights from the city beyond that filtered in. The elephant was slowly dying, covered in dust and decay, the red room where he had first fallen in love falling apart, save for the dress-coat. He spent some time looking at it before standing up and walking back down the spiraling steps and back to his apartment, quietly closing up behind him.

Once there, he looked around, looking out over the city. The rotted windmill of the Moulin Rouge still creaked and sometimes turned, and the Eiffel Tower was as glorious as ever. Montmartre sat like a fat, overripe peach beneath him, quietly rotting under the moonlight. It had once been so romantic to him, the music of the so-called revolution soaring up into the night sky. But Victor's clever hands didn't play anymore. There was no laughing Balthazar. Castiel lived with a dying woman and a broken man, and who knew where Crowley had taken off to.

There was no Revolution anymore. Just drunks who had lost their sense of reality.

oOo

Meg died four weeks later. The three of them took a trip to the ocean and scattered her ashes. Dean broke down, and Castiel held him, his eyes as somber and tired as they'd ever been. Gabriel went home and drank a bottle of wine alone, and gently stroked his fingers over the one picture of Sam he had found in the wreck of the Moulin Rouge.

That night, Gabriel looked over the manuscript. The top page had remained blank and after a moment's hesitation, he reached over and got a pen, carefully writing across it before setting it on top.

The title was simple.

_Moulin Rouge!_


End file.
